CHAPTER FOUR: 

INDONESIA: MILITARY INTERVENTION AND THE POLITICS OF AUTHORITARIAN DOMINATION

 

Introduction: The Military and the Politics of Authoritarian Domination  
          In
Indonesia, as in Burma, soldiers have been more politicians than military professionals. As in Burma, too, the military has been the product of a global war.  The earliest forerunner of the Indonesian armed forces (ABRI)[1] was the Volunteer Force for the Defence of Java (PETA), created and organized by the Japanese.  Unlike Burma's Tatmadaw, though, the ABRI was more fragmented and regionalized, and had to share the political stage with other actors created and/or organized by the Japanese: political militias or irregulars, political parties, and politicized Islamic groups.  Complicating matters was the re-emergence of the Indonesian Communist Party (Partai Kommunis Indonesia, PKI), which claimed the right to lead in the emerging "revolut-ionary situation".  The PKI, for the military, was a threat to itself and to the nascent state. 
          The military claimed -- with some validity, unlike in
Burma -- that it fought for and won independence.  But there were other armed units involved.  By contrast with Burma, where the British transferred power to the AFPFL in a relatively peaceful and orderly fashion, Indonesia’s colonial masters, the Dutch, sought to reimpose colonial rule.  The result was an extremely unstable, confused period of fighting between the Dutch and the various nationalist forces, and among the nationalist forces themselves, including intra-armed force clashes.  Intra-military conflicts also arose over the organization, role, and function of the armed forces in the post-independence era. 
          During the early life of the independent state, politics were complex and turbulent.  There was dissension over how the new state was to be organized politic-ally; how state-society relations were to be ordered; and who would do the ordering.  There was very little consensus on these questions: the military had its vision, but so did the PKI, the Islamic forces, the socialists, and various prominent elites. 
          This examination of the military in Indonesian politics will highlight some of the key themes of military interventionism discussed in the theoretical chapters. 

Modern Indonesia: The State and the Seeds of Authoritarianism 
          This section will investigate the pattern and nature of military intervention and the evolution of state-society relations in Indonesia.  
          In the pre-colonial times of what is now known as "Indonesia" -- an area en-compassing more than 13,000 islands – there did not exist anything that could be defined as a "core kingdom," along the lines of the Burmese and Thai examples.  Ancient "empires" did exist: Majapahit in the 1400s, and later Mataram, founded by Sultan Agung and lasting from 1615 to 1645 on Java, when the Dutch were already present.  Nonetheless, modern Indonesia is truly the product of colonialism.  What existed prior to the colonial age, as Mochtar Papottingi and many others have indicated, was a collection of fluidly-organized "kingdoms" or "harbour states".  Some of these "belonged" loosely to Majapahit, and still later Mataram.[2]  Relations between kings and vassals, rulers and ruled, were articulated in terms very similar to those operating in the Southeast Asian "kingdoms", as David J. Steinberg points out.[3] 
          By the mid-1600s, Mataram had fallen apart.  By the early 1670s, it had been replaced as the dominant power by the Dutch East India Company (VOC).  By the 1760s, the VOC was supreme.  The remnants of the divided Mataram were constituted as vassals, along the lines of the princely states in British India; a part of Java was ruled indirectly by regents (bupati, the "bureaucratic" nobles or former sub-lords who formed the aristocratic priyayi class).[4]  In Batavia (later Jakarta) and its environs, the Dutch ruled directly.  For the remainder, they recognized the authority of local regents, vassals, and military allies.  The arrangements varied widely, epitomizing the untidy political-administrative complexity of colonialism. 
          The Dutch occupied the Netherlands Indies for over 180 years, and their policy evolved along with local conditions and changes in the mother country.[5]  With the VOC’s collapse at the end of the 1700s, a series of Governor-Generals set about "defeudalizing," rationalizing, and modernizing the colony.  They established a net-work of inter-island transport, including railroads, and introduced a modern infrastruct-ure in areas like banking, telegraph communications, and newspapers.  The result was a more vigorous, efficient export-based commercial economy.  Entering the twentieth century, the Netherlands Indies was, speaking in general, a single administrative-political-economic unit, and an integral part of the world economy – but as a colony. 
          Dutch rule was not as direct as British rule in Burma.  Nor did the Dutch, unlike the British, introduce any form of meaningful representative government.[6]  From 1918, there was modest, although unsatisfactory, participation in a half-elected Volksraad, whose powers, however, were only advisory and whose recommendations were often ignored.  The colonial state was paternalistic and more highly autonomous from local society than was the case in British Burma.  The ruled were shut off from access to the state, and lacked intermediary institutions through which to make demands and voice their aspirations. 
          Still, colonial modernization brought radical change in its train.  Administrative unification, together with the influx of Western ideas of freedom and democracy, national independence, and popular sovereignty, soon gave rise to nationalist sentiments.[7]  A "national" society had indeed been created, one that spawned among the elites a sense of belonging and togetherness.[8]  
          The earliest nationalist stirring was spearheaded in 1908 by the Budi Utomo organization, an advocate of Javanese nationalism and traditionalism.  Led by "progressive" priyayi, it took a moderate line in opposing the Dutch.[9]  Next came Sarekat Islam, founded in 1912, with roots in the Islamic Trade Association and an agenda aimed at undermining the economic dominance of the Chinese.  It grew into a sort of mass movement, and by 1918 claimed almost half a million members.[10]  Also prominent among the more radical groupings was the PKI, formed in 1920 -- making it one of the oldest communist parties in Asia.[11] 
          More significant in this early associational life was the Indonesian Association, founded in the 1920s by students in Holland.  Its members called for an "Indonesian" identity that transcended ethnic differences.  The person most responsible for imbuing this idea of "Indonesia" with a true romanticism was the future "President-for-Life", Sukarno.  Even in these early days his charisma was undoubted, as was his ability to mesmerize the masses and move men to action.[12]   In 1927, Sukarno founded the Partai Nasional Indonesia (PNI); later he led a broad front, the Permufakatan Perhimpunan Politik Kebangsaan Indonesia (PPPKI), which comprised the Sarekat Islam, the PNI, Budi Otomo, and other forces.  Sukarno would leave his stamp on Indonesian politics for another four decades, pushing a leftist-populist amalgam of "Nationalism, Islam, and Marxism", oriented towards "the people" (rakyat).  It was Sukarno’s thoughts and general charisma, as Pabottingi comments, that buttressed the psychological-cultural meaning of "nationhood" in the minds of both elite and masses.  He demystified colonialism and also, one might add, mystified nationalism.[13]  
          Despite the populist orientation embodied in his Marhaen ("little people") doct-rine[14] and Pancasila (Nationalism, Humanitarianism, Democracy, Social Justice, and Belief in God), Sukarno was not a democrat.[15]  He subscribed to the ideas of nationalists such as Ki Hadjar Dewantoro (an educator-nationalist and prince of the royal house of Jogjakarta) and Raden Supomo, a legal scholar.  These figures preached the superiority of "Eastern" values to Western materialism.  Dewantoro’s idea of the proper relationship between ruler-ruled was a benevolent and paternalistic one: the "family principle" equated the nation with the extended domestic unit.  That meant individual rights were to be subordinated to the "demand of the collectivity": the family, the nation, and by extension the state.[16]  He advocated "democracy with leadership".[17]  For his part, Supomo drew on Javanese adat (customary law) to advance an organic, communitarian vision of nationhood, with individuals bound by bonds of duty and devotion to the common good. Here, too, there was no place for individualism or rights transcending those of the collectivity.[18]
          The attraction of a nationalist-statist ideology for anti-colonial leaders is under-standable, the more so for someone like Sukarno who had to fight for sovereignty and, at the same time, acquire and hold onto power.  He favoured a political order in which the ruled were represented by functional groups, "guided" by leaders (or a leader) who knew best what the true national interest was.[19]  As in so many other instances, it is ironic that a movement that promised the ruled a greater voice in politics and the state should give rise instead to authoritarianism, first Sukarno’s, then Suharto’s. 

The Military and the Politics of the Struggle for Independence, 1945-1949  
          As in Burma, World War II had a profound impact on Indonesia.  The war years witnessed the wholesale displacement of the ruling stratum and established elites -- Dutch administrators and their Eurasian, native collaborators.  Unlike in Burma, however, the Japanese only promised independence; but they did allow the formation of organizations that became part of a very active political sphere.  Among these were the Masjumi, or Council of Indonesian Muslim Associations; militant youth groups (the pemuda), and armed bodies -- including PETA, the Heiho corps, and Hizbu’llah ("Allah’s Army", under Masjumi).[20] 
          In 1944, a nationalist umbrella body was formed, the Indonesian Preparatory Committee for Independence (PPKI).  Sukarno was its head and Pancasila its guiding principle.[21]  This later was transformed into the Central Indonesian National Comm-ittee (KNIP), which acted as a quasi-parliament until the elections of 1955. 
          In September 1945, a month after Japan’s capitulation, Sukarno and Mohammed Hatta proclaimed Indonesian independence.  State and administrative structures, though, were not yet in place.  The new leaders confronted a situation where power rested in the hands of various "armies" and militias.[22]  
          The story of Indonesian independence grows more complicated with the Dutch attempts to reimpose control.  Between 1946 and 1948, the Dutch launched numerous military offensives, interspersed with agreements that they promptly broke.[23]  Their final campaign was the attack in December 1948 on the Republican capital, Jogjakarta, which led to the capture of Sukarno, Hatta, Sjahrir, and most of the cabinet.  National-ist groups and the military under Sudirman and Nasution then launched a five-month "war of independence."[24]  Roundly condemned by the United Nations, faced with American threats to cut off all Marshall Plan aid, the Dutch were forced to negotiate.  In May 1949, the Roem van Royen agreement was signed, and this led to full independence in August of the same year. 
          The struggle for independence was not waged by a united movement.  Friction regularly arose in dealings between Sukarno, Hatta, Sjahrir, Amir Sjarifuddin, Tan Malaka, and the PKI leadership.  Tension was also evident between civilian leaders like Sjahrir and Amir, and the military led by Sudirman.  There were also intra-military disputes over the shape of the new armed forces that saw PETA square off against Dutch-trained officers like Abdul Haris Nasution.[25] 

          The most serious task for the new "government" led by Sjahrir and, nominally, Sukarno,[26] was constructing a national armed forces out of the patchwork of politicized armed bodies.  Again, there was little agreement between civilian and military leaders, and within the military itself, as to how the institution was to be organized.  Civilian control was another sticking point.[27]  The conundrum was deepened by the fact that the leadership of the nascent armed forces consisted largely of Japanese-trained PETA officers.  Like Burma’s military Thakins, they had by no means reconciled themselves to the notion of the military as the apolitical servant of the government of the day.  PETA was nationalistic, but it was also created and controlled by the Japanese.  The "government" of Sjahrir – a socialist who did not collaborate with Japan – was distrustful of PETA for this reason.  Its unease was only deepened by the army’s decision, in late 1945, to choose Sudirman as its chief.[28]  Moreover, the army elected, and proposed that Jogjakarta’s Sultan Hamengku Buwono IX be included in the cabinet as Minister of Security (i.e., Defence).  This Sjahrir viewed as an act of rank insubordination.  To clarify, it was the practice for the Japanese military to elect the ministers of the Army and the Navy to the cabinet.  Sjahrir, who considered himself a staunch "anti-fascist", was deeply suspicious of PETA officers who were trained by, and served with, the Japanese.  He therefore rejected the army's recommendation, and appointed Amir Syarifuddin as Minister of Security (1945-46) instead.[29]  In 1946, in an attempt to assert civilian control, Amir Syarifuddin attempted to post political officers (the equivalent of political commisars) to divisional units.  The above actions by civilian power-holders alienated the army from Sjahrir's government in particular, and "politicians" in general. 
          In response, Sudirman moved closer to Tan Malaka,
[30] a key opposition figure.  Soon the army was embroiled in civilian politics.  At the instigation of his followers, some officers staged an abduction of Sjahrir – the "July 3 Affair" – in the hope that Sukarno would appoint Tan Malaka to the government.  This, one might say, was the military’s first intrusion into politics.  Sukarno instead demanded Sjahrir’s release, then won over Surdirman by declaring the Tentara Republic Indonesia (TRI) to be the state’s sole legitimate armed force and by appointing him its chief. 
          The civilian-military struggle also touched on the crucial question of how the politicized militias (laskars) were to be dealt with.  The military wanted some put under its command and others disarmed, but there was dissension over exactly how this would be carried out.  Thus, when Nasution, acting under Sudirman’s orders, tried in September 1948 to "rationalize" the military in preparation for the expected Dutch offensive, a bloody, futile resistance broke out, waged by communist militias and allied units who refused to disband.  The "Madiun Affair" ever since has been depicted as a communist "stab in the back" to the Republic.
[31]

          It was fortunate that the Dutch chose not to go on the offensive at the time of the Affair.  They did so in December, however, capturing Jogjakarta together with members of the "government."  Despite Sudirman’s pleas, Sukarno refused to leave the Republican capital to lead the resistance.  Thus, when the Dutch were finally forced to cease military actions in mid-1949, the army – which had fought some engagements with the Dutch – was able to claim that it had brought about independence, not the politicians who had refused to fight. 

Indonesia, 1949-1958: Parliamentary Politics and Military Factionalism,   
          The period between independence and the installation of the "Guided Democracy Order" in 1959-60 was marked by the struggle among party leaders to gain the upper hand in an open arena of parliamentary politics.[32]  Parallel conflicts also arose between civilian power-holders and soldiers, and among the various military factions vying for control of the armed forces. 
          A parliamentary system was adopted in accordance with the provisional 1950 Constitution.
[33]  The responsibility of day-to-day governance rested with a Prime Minister and cabinet under the guidance of a figurehead President, Sukarno.  Thus, for the first decade of independence, Sukarno was "pushed upstairs".  Politics was dominated by party leaders who sought the suppport of different social sectors.  As Leo Suryadinata notes, the PNI (Partai Nasional Indonesia, close to Sukarno) enjoyed the support of civil servants and the priyayi class (mostly abangan or nominal Muslims).  The Masjumi drew support from Muslim landlords, traders, and modern-minded intellectuals, while the Nahdatul Ulama (NU) targeted more orthodox santri Muslims and commercial elements in the smaller towns of central and eastern Java.  The Socialist Party of Indonesia (PSI), meanwhile, secured a following in the army and civil service, while the PKI -- the only legal communist party in Southeast Asia -- was supported by the lower priyayi and peasantry (mainly abangan).[34]

          Indonesia’s military rulers have presented this period of parliamentary rule as promoting a dangerous instability,[35] a testament to the military’s powerful distrust of politics and mass political participation, as discussed in the opening theoretical chapt-ers.  The military's depiction of the parliamentary system as unstable is not entirely groundless, however.  Seven years of parliamentary rule saw the rise and fall of five governments, which can indeed be viewed as symptomatic of serious instability.[36]  A closer look, though, reveals that these governments in fact were dominated by two parties, the Masjumi and the PNI.[37]  Nonetheless, constant squabbling flared within the cabinet, in parliament, and within individual parties.  There was corruption, though nothing comparable to the military-dominated New Order, along with smouldering secessionist rebellions in Aceh, South Moluccas, South Sulawei, and West Java (the Darul Islam rebellion).  More seriously, the military involved itself in several power-plays and regional revolts, including the "17th October Affair" in 1952, the "27th July Affair" in 1955, and the revolts of 1957-58.  The significant point is that the military disliked the parliamentary system, and favoured the more authoritarian, paternalistic order embodied in the 1945 Constitution, advocated by Dewantoro and Supomo, and backed by Sukarno himself as President of the Republic. 
          In post-independence
Indonesia, although the military claimed -- and strongly believed -- that it "won" independence, it did not achieve the kind or the degree of dominance it later came to enjoy.  One reason was the death of the charismatic Sudirman in January 1950.  Had he lived, Sudirman might have emerged as unifier and strongman, pulling the military to the centre-stage of the political arena sooner than actually occurred. 
          With his death, Nasution, Simatupang, and other Dutch-trained officers came to occupy the top positions, intensifying intra-military tensions and contributing to the general political instability.  Nasution’s attempts to reform the military, and also to stake out a place for the military in politics, generated opposition from several quart-ers.  Politicians
[38] opposed the military’s role in political-administrative affairs, which, thanks to the State of War and Siege (SOB) decree, the military exercised with special alacrity in "insecure areas", similar to the situation in Burma.  Ex-PETA officers, meanwhile, opposed Nasution’s restructuring plans, which involved replacing them with better-trained personnel.[39]   Finally, Sukarno himself disliked and distrusted Nasution, as we shall see below. 
          Nasution’s "
Middle Way" doctrine proclaimed the right of the military to be active in politics.[40]  The military also resented parliamentary attacks on its extra-military functions, and what it termed "political interference" – code for civilian con-trol.  Anti-parliamentary sentiments coalesced in the "17th October Affair" of 1952.  On that day, Nasution loyalists and elements of the Siliwangi Division orchestrated a mass demonstration, accompanied by troops and tanks, in front of the presidential palace.  Top generals, along with Nasution, demanded that parliament be abolished.  A displeased Sukarno responded by mobilizing anti-Nasution, ex-PETA officers, and Nasution was soon faced with mutinies in the Brawijaya Division and other units.[41]  Outflanked, he accepted dismissal meekly in December 1952, an exile that lasted until his reappointment in 1955. 
          Nasution’s absence from the scene did not lead to the subordination of the military to civilian authorities.  Behind the "27th June Affair" lay the machinations of Defence Minister Iwa Kusumasumantri, a Sundanese and follower of Tan Malaka.  The Affair centred on the appointment of a new Chief-of-Staff (KSAD).  Simbolon, the most senior officer, was unacceptable to Iwa, who saw him as Nasution’s man.  Iwa therefore appointed Bambang Utojo.  But Zulkifli Lubis, the Acting KSAD --  Iwa's former ally and foe of Nasution -- refused to step down.  He declared that the army represented the whole nation and would fight attempts by politicians to politicize it to advance sectarian goals.
[42]

          Just when Nasution seemed doomed to obscurity following his dismissal and electoral humiliation in the 1955 voting,[43] Sukarno appointed him Chief of Staff in November 1955.  Each seemed to recognize that he needed the other to attain a comm-on goal: the abolition of parliamentary politics and the establishment of a more "Indo-nesian" political order.[44]  Their relationship proved mutually beneficial.  Nasution’s support secured for Sukarno a power base that he could personally command, and use to establish the Guided Democracy order.  Sukarno’s support boosted Nasution’s legitimacy and gave him a firmer grip on the military.  This he consolidated in a round-about, complex fashion by eliminating military rivals and challengers.

          Upon his reappointment, Nasution embarked on a scheme to professionalize the military structure, which meant transferring those who were "setting themselves up as warlords."[45]  This stirred further opposition to Nasution within the military.[46]  The most serious challenge took the form of a series of regional revolts, led by all the Sumatra commanders (North, Central and South) together with the Kalimantan and East Indonesia commands.  Rebel soldiers declared themselves in favour of "firm and revolutionary measures" to realize the ideals of the 1945 Independence Proclamation, including less-centralized control of the outer regions, regional representation, a presidential system, a Sukarno-Hatta dwi-tunggal (joint leadership), and changes to the top brass of the military.[47]  The rebels were joined in their campaign by a number of prominent politicians.[48]  They set up a counter-government (the Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia, PRRI), though not a secessionist one as such -- in hindsight, a strange tack for "secessionists" to take.[49] 

          The revolts exploited widespread anti-Jakarta sentiments which coexisted with a strong sense of "Indonesian-ness."  This enabled leaders like the Sultan of Jogjakarta (a Javanese) and Hatta (a Sumatran) to band together to isolate the extremists.  It also assisted Nasution (a Batak) in maintaining contacts with rebel leaders which, in turn, helped to moderate secessionist demands.[50]  Overall, the revolts proved a blessing in disguise for Nasution, ridding him of troublesome officers.  Furthermore, Sukarno’s nationwide declaration of martial law (imposing a State of Siege, or SOB) concentrat-ed more power in the hands of Nasution and the military.  The military, in alliance with Sukarno, now became a dominant presence in politics, and a crucial pillar of support for the Guided Democracy state.

          Of theoretical relevance here is how the military’s lack of cohesion inhibited its ability to intervene in politics and undermine parliamentary rule.  The "17th October Affair" resulted instead in Nasution’s dismissal by Sukarno, who was adept at manip-ulating disunity within the military.  The "27th June Affair" also failed to change the system substantially.  Paradoxically, it was the concerted effort by dissidents -- military, regional, and political – to oust Nasution via the string of regional revolts that ended up strengthening his hand.  The revolts turned him into precis

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ely the kind of strongman-unifier that, in alliance with Sukarno, could override the parliamentary system and impose a more authoritarian "Guided Democracy" order.  This early military intervention in politics confirms my contention that for military intervention to be effective, a prominent leader must arise to unify the military.  It also lends support to the idea that the military usually intervenes as the political instrument of authoritarian leaders like Nasution and Sukarno in Indonesia. 

The Sukarno-Nasution
Alliance: The Establishment of the Guided Democracy State  
          Despite Sukarno’s charisma and symbolic standing, he did not, as noted, exercise power directly in the first post-independence years.  He stood "above politics" as President and supreme leader.  His relations with other power-players, as with Field Marshal Pibul’s in
Thailand, rested on his ability to play off party and military factions against one another.  Though Sukarno’s relationship with the military was difficult at times, he managed to prevent the armed forces from capturing the state or monopoliz-ing the political sphere until he fell from power in 1965-67. 
          Sukarno’s turn towards direct personal rule did not really represent a new direction for him.  He often expressed disillusionment with "Western democracy" and parliamentary politics.  As David Reeve notes, he had always favoured the notions of "Indonesian democracy" and "democracy with leadership" that early nationalist thinkers had advanced.  These revolved around governance and decision-making strategies that would represent "functional" groups, not through open party competition, but by musyawarah and mufakat (consultation and consensus).
[51]  He felt the system of parliamentary politics and governance had been imposed on him by political parties and rivals;[52] he resented his role as "a maker of speeches, a host at official receptions, and a man to whom ambassadors presented their credentials."[53]  Nor should it be forgotten that Sukarno was, at least for rhetorical purposes, a pseudo-revolutionary Marxist, as his NASAKOM formula (Nationalism, Religion, and Communism) attested.[54]  His "revolutionary" leftist orientation drew him into a closer relationship with the PKI, with the latter becoming, over time, the second pillar of the Guided Democracy state.[55]  
          The military, of course, shared Sukarno’s distaste for politicians.  As Sukarno moved away from supporting parliamentary politics, the military began to assert its own anti-democratic views more forcefully.  Nasution, for example, blamed disorder, instability, and the ongoing regional revolts on "cow-trading" politics.  He rejected the "Western European model" and proclaimed that soldiers would not become the "dead tools" of government.  He also reiterated his "
Middle Way" doctrine, stressing the military’s right to participate in policymaking at the highest level, in such areas as state finance, economic planning, and representation in the "more Indonesian" political order that both Sukarno and Nasution were pushing for.[56] 
          Despite the antipathy and mutual suspicion between these two leading figures, then – and despite the ideological distance between the leftist "revolutionary" and the staunch anti-communist – their strategic goals converged.  Ironically, as noted, it was a crisis wi

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thin the military, the regional revolts, which strengthened the duo’s position politically.  The revolts gave Sukarno grounds to extend martial law throughout Indonesia in 1957, which in turn extended the military’s influence in the civil administration.  The PKI made its own inadvertent contribution to the military’s growing strength when its trade unions seized control of Dutch estates and firms in late 1957.  It ended up being forced to hand them over to the military to be run as state enterprises.  In this fashion, soldiers gained an important economic base within the state, which they used to recruit supporters from a pivotal economic sector – the labour force of the state enterprises.  
          The kind of state-society order that Sukarno desired was outlined in his Kon-sepsi formula.  He envisioned supreme power as lying in a "servant-leader" who embodied the people’s aspirations.
[57]  Below him would be a cabinet of gotong-royong (mutual assistance) in which all parties would be represented, including the PKI.  A National Council of functional groups would represent workers, peasants, intellectuals, women, and adherents of religious faiths (Muslim, Protestant, and Catholic).[58] 
          In May 1959, the Constituent Assembly – elected in 1956 and composed of party politicians – rejected Konsepsi and Sukarno’s call for a return to the 1945 Con-stitution.  Nasution, now Chairman of the Supreme War Authority and in full control of the military, banned all political activity and urged Sukarno to adopt the 1945 Constitution by presidential decree.
[59]  In early 1960 did exactly that.  He dissolved the Constituent Assembly and brought the era of parliamentary rule to a close.[60] 
          This analysis of the roots of the Guided Democracy state testifies to a fund-amental shift in the prevailing mode of interaction between state and society.  Intermediary institutions, those that stand between the state and society, hitherto had not been directly controlled by state officials.  Now they were remodelled and replaced by institutions and bodies directly linked to state officials or key power-holders, and subject to their control.  Thus was established a state-centric configuration that boosted the state’s autonomy from society, but also made it less insulated and autonomous from dominant social actors, which lends support to the observation made in the theoretical framework with respect to the reorganization of power in non-democratic or authoritarian orders. 
          The reorganization of power in this instance was achieved by Sukarno in what might be described as a "presidential coup".  On the face of it, this would seem to disprove the argument that military intervention and the authoritarian reorganization of power are different sides of the same coin.  But since Sukarno and Nasution, shared a common goal, and since it was Nasution that actually initiated the move towards authoritarian rule by banning all political activity and calling from adoption of the 1945 Constitution by presidential decree, the argument might provisionally be allowed to stand.  The events of 1959-60 might best be seen as an indirect intervention by the military in Indonesian politics. 

Guided Democracy Politics, 1960-1965: Sukarno, the Military, and the PKI 
          In the Guided Democracy order, although dominant, the military was kept in check by Sukarno, who was a master at political manipulation.  In 1960, for example, he separated Nasution from his power base, the key Siliwangi Division,
[61] replacing him with Ibrahim Adjie, a Sukarnoist whose morals Nasution disdained. He appointed Nasution’s old foe, Hidajat, as deputy Defence Minister.  He successfully exploited inter-service and personal rivalries (for example, those between Nasution and Air Force General Suryadama, and later Omar Dhani).[62]  And he reduced the power of the Defence Ministry to that of an administrative centre, rather than the command-and-control apparatus envisioned by Nasution.

          In June 1962, Sukarno kicked Nasution upstairs, appointing him Chief of Staff and forcing him to turn over the post of Army chief to Ahmad Yani.  The latter was, according to Harold Crouch, Nasution’s main rival, and had a warm relationship with Sukarno.[63]  Nasution’s position eroded further when Sukarno established the Supreme Operational Command (KOTI) with himself as head and Yani as Chief of Staff.  The KOTI was responsible for executing governmental and economic programs, as well as combatting counter-revolutionary forces and the Nekolim. 

          Despite Nasution’s sidelining, however, the military’s position as a whole was firm.  The forces that had tended to challenge it – especially civilian parties and pol-iticians – had been "tamed," or co-opted into the Guided Democracy framework.  Its rivals, the PSI and Masjumi, had been expelled from the political arena because of their opposition to Guided Democracy and their involvement in the regional revolts.  As well, the SOB decrees Sukarno imposed to counter the revolts served to buttress military power; Sukarno’s foreign adventures – the West Irian campaign and the "Crush Malaysia" campaign[64] – further entrenched it within the state.  By virtue of Nasution’s Doctrine of Territorial Warfare,[65] the military was also able to extend its presence in administrative bodies.  Military men were made governors and district officers (bupati).  A comparison with Burma is apposite: the system was similar to the hierarchies established by the military after 1962, under the auspices of the Security and Administrative Committee (SAC) and Law and, after 1988, the Order Restoration Committee (LORC).  Indonesian officers heading the Regional War Authority bodies could claim to speak and act as representatives of the President who, in turn, depended on them for the administration of martial law.[66]  The military undertook Civic Action and "development" projects, like the Thai military under Sarit and Thanom (as well as Praphat).  Finally, and even more significantly, the military set up a series of "funct-ional" groups -- youth, peasants, labour, women, and so on -- under its own control. 
          Sukarno’s notion of functional-group representation was in fact a godsend for the military.  It was in line with the armed forces’ distaste for parliamentary politics,
[67] and dovetailed also with its self-image as a functional group.  That image, sanctioned by Sukarno in 1958, was later legitimized in Suharto’s New Order via the Dwi Fungsi (Dual Function) formula.  The military thus affirmed it's status as a socio-political grouping, one responsible for both defending and developing the nation.[68]  This reinforced its mystique as "guardian of the nation".  
          The functional-groups concept enabled the military to build a civilian base, known as Sekber Golkar (the Joint Secretariat of Functional Groups).  In essence, this was an anti-PKI front composed of over ninety functional groups
[69] – the forerunner of Golkar, the government’s party which today dominates the representative-legislative sphere of Suharto’s New Order. 
          In the Guided Democracy years, however, the Sebker Golkar did not enjoy dominance.  It could only compete with other fronts affiliated to political parties and the PKI.
[70]  All of them competed for the favour of Sukarno, the man at the center of things.  This arrangement can be contrasted with Burma under Ne Win, where the mil-itary monopolized the political arena and was subordinate only to Ne Win himself. 
          In the bid between power players in Sukarno's order, the PKI seemed to be gaining more influence owing to its ideological affinity with the "President for Life".  Sukarno, for example, endorsed the PKI’s proposal to "nasakomize" the military through the dispatching of advisory teams to ABRI.  He even supported arming work-ers and peasants as a "Fifth Force", threatening the military’s monopoly over the legitimate means of coercion.
[71]  Owing to Sukarno's growing pro-PKI stance, the military, ABRI, felt, as Nasution puts it, "pushed into a corner."[72] 
          However, despite ABRI's growing unease with Sukarno’s increasing close alliance with the PKI and by the spectre of a communist triumph, the PKI was actually in a desperate "race against time".
[73]  Crouch notes that the ideological affinity between Sukarno and the PKI was not mirrored by a significant PKI presence in the state sphere, and its position was still far from secure.[74]  The military, by contrast, was firmly entrenched in the state apparatus, as we have seen.  In addition, the struggle between the PKI and the military over the "functional group representation" sphere of the Guided Democracy order was still unresolved.  The PKI’s fronts -- which included the Central Organization of All Indonesian Workers (SOBSI), the BTI (a peasant front), the League of People’s Culture (LEKRA), and Gerwani, a women’s front -- were all challenged by military-backed fronts, just as the latter felt threatened by the PKI’s organizing efforts. 
          The PKI’s ascent, like that of its military nemesis, was a difficult one.  After being nearly decimated by Nasution and the Siliwangi Division in a skirmish that became known as the "Madiun Affair" of 1948, the party made a comeback, winning 16 percent of the popular vote in the 1955 general elections.  Led by Dipa Nusantara Aidit, it chose to support Sukarno in all his endeavours.
[75]  In return, it gained the latter's protection from its bitterest foe, the military, and from socialist and Islamic rivals as well. 
          Most scholars have seen Sukarno’s attitude toward the PKI as prompted by political expediency, or by a desire to outflank the military and Islamic forces.
[76]  There is certainly much truth in this evaluation.  What also needs to be considered, though, is the close ideological affinity between Sukarno and the PKI.[77]  It made sense for the PKI to support a sympathetic and all-powerful ruler like Sukarno.  After the 1955 elections -- the only genuine elections in Indonesia thus far -- Sukarno pressed successfully for the PKI to be included, albeit indirectly, in the government of Ali Sastroamidjojo.  PKI leaders (Aidit, Lukman, Njoto) found themselves appointed to executive positions in the National Front in 1960, and the cabinet-like State Consultat-ive Body in 1962.

          Equally valuable to the PKI was the actions Sukarno took against parties and fronts linked to ABRI or otherwise anti-PKI.  In 1960, for example, Sukarno banned the League for Democracy, an anti-communist front drawn from the ranks of Masjumi, PSI, NU, and IP-KI (a party with close ties to the military).[78]  In the same year, he banned the PKI’s (and the military's as well, ironically) political rivals, the Masjumi and PSI, for different but rather good reasons – their involvement in the regional revolts.  In 1964, The Body for the Upholding of Sukarnoism (BPS), a front led by Trade Minister and Murba leader Adam Malik that opposed "nasakomization," also was banned.  Thanks to Sukarno’s active assistance and Guided Democracy politics, then, it can be said that the PKI gained a great deal of capital from its junior partner-ship with the "Great Leader", while the military increasingly came under ideological and political siege from Sukarno and the PKI.

          The PKI gained further support among Java’s rural poor with its aksi sepihak, or unilateral actions -- peasant seizures of land considered already distributed under land reform laws of 1959 and 1960.[79]  These often-violent actions polarized the rural areas along class and religious lines: landowners and rural elites were mostly santri, or orthodox Muslims, and largely affiliated with the NU, while the poor were mostly abangan (nominal Muslims).  PKI gains in this area, though, were offset by growing fears of lower-class violence and "Red terror."  Many members of the socio-economic elite were pushed away from Sukarno and the PKI, and into the arms of the military,

          Still, if ABRI enjoyed a "competitive edge" over its rival and enemy, the PKI’s long-term prospects were quite encouraging, given its closeness to the leader on which all actors in the Guided Democracy state depended.  Things seemed even rosier when Sukarno’s relations with ABRI worsened as a result of the latter’s alleged foot-dragging on "nasakomisation" and the "Fifth Force".  Sukarno even accused military leaders of becoming "reactionary".[80]  Adding fuel to the fire was Sukarno’s accusat-ions that Nekolim forces planned to assassinate him together with Dr.Subandrio and Yani, and that a coup by a CIA-backed "Council of Generals" was in the planning stages.[81]

          Unfortunately for the PKI, Sukarno vomited and collapsed while receiving a Sekber-Golkar delegation.  This spawned speculation about his health and rumours of impending coups and power struggles.  Tensions increased; the balance of power was growing unsettled as mutual suspicions deepened among the twin pillars of Sukarno’s order, the PKI and the military.  This set the stage for the dramatic and traumatic violence that exploded in late 1965. 
          The above analysis of the Guided Democracy state lends credence to the assertion in the theoretical framework that in an authoritarian order, military or otherwise, the political centre of gravity shifts towards the personal ruler, who holds the lion’s share of power.  In the Guided Democracy order, this was Sukarno.  He was in almost complete control of the state and its institutions, which largely became extensions of his will and vision.  In this sense, the state was non-autonomous, malleable, and not insulated from Sukarno’s preferences. 
          We have seen that Sukarno was able to maintain quite a stable surface balance, despite the mutual antagonisms of the two pillars.  ABRI’s entrenchment in the state apparatus was offset to a large extent by the PKI’s ideological closeness to Sukarno.  But the fact that his two powerful subordinate forces were implacable enemies proved destabilizing at a deeper level.  As it transpired, doubts about Sukarno’s health trigger-ed the kind of crisis of succession and transition to be expected, given the earlier discussion of the vulnerability of authoritarian systems when the ruler is weakened, physically or otherwise. 

The “Succession” Crisis: Gestapu and the Birth of Suharto’s
New Order State   
          Soon after Sukarno’s collapse, on October 1, the Gestapu (30th of September Movement) staged its coup attempt.  It was led by Colonel Untung of the Presidential Guard and "radicals" from the Diponegro and Brawijaya Divisions.
[82]  Yani and five top generals were killed, along with Nasution’s daughter and an aide.  Nasution himself narrowly escaped death.  Inexplicably, General Suharto, head of the counter-coup reserves (KOSTRAD), but not one of the Council of Generals, was not on the hit-list.  This oversight proved fatal.[83]  
          Untung announced he had acted to pre-empt a coup by a CIA-backed "Council of Generals," to safeguard the President, and to purge ABRI of corrupt "power-mad generals".
[84]  He proclaimed a Revolutionary Council, which he headed, and which included the Air Force’s Omar Dhani, Sukarno’s protégé and Foreign Minister Subandrio, the Navy chief, and other pro-PKI figures.  Sukarno’s name, however, was absent.  In this respect and others, Gestapu is a mystery that has generated considerable debate.[85]  The official version is that it was a PKI plot to split the army and secure its position after the death or incapacitation of Sukarno.[86]  The roles of Sukarno and Suharto are also intriguing.  Was Sukarno involved in the coup, or did he know about it, and if so how much?  Was Suharto simply an innocent beneficiary?[87]

          Suffice it to say that by the second day, Suharto, with Nasution’s advice and with minimal fighting, had regained control.[88]   Nasution was, for the most part, in shock: he had been injured while escaping from the team sent to abduct and kill him, and his daughter had been mortally wounded.  Sukarno was now in an awkward position.  He had gone to Halim Air Base, the coup headquarters, along with Omar Dhani (who had openly endorsed the coup), Subandrio, Aidit, and other PKI leaders.[89]  That night he made for his palace at Bogor (not too far from Jakarta).  The following day, Suharto visited Bogor, where Sukarno charged him with the task of restoring security and order.  On 14 October, Sukarno retreated still further, appointing Suharto as Army Commander.

          Taking advantage of public horror at the murder of the generals and Nasution’s daughter, the military set out swiftly to destroy the PKI.  It joined with other anti-PKI elements – Islamic parties and youth organizations, the right wing of the PNI, and old political foes, along with anti-communist intellectuals and students.  Its anti-PKI camp-aign included a televised exhumation of the dead generals, and a public funeral for them and Nasution’s daughter.  Soon mobs looted and gutted PKI offices and property, first in Jakarta, then throughout the country.  PKI members and alleged "communists" became fair game for frenzied mobs, egged on by Muslim leaders, local and rural notables, and anyone with a score to settle.[90]  John Hughes and Brian May claim soldiers took part in or encouraged the killings.[91]  The estimates of those killed, includ-ing women, children, and even babies, range from a low of 78,000 to half a million or more.[92]  Most of the victims were likely the poor, landless coolies and peasants who had participated in PKI rallies and "unilateral actions".[93]

          Whatever their character and extent, the massacres served the New Order rulers in a number of key ways.  First, it rid them of their main rival, the PKI.  Second, as Julia Southwood and Patrick Flanagan suggest, the trauma turned survivors into "obedient collaborators and victims",[94] and made many of those involved in the kill-ings the "partners in crime" of the regime.  The bloodbath allowed New Order power-holders to present themselves as standing guard over society to prevent a replay of the traumatic events.  The slaughter thus provided the regime with a negative kind of legit-imacy: as noted in the theoretical discussion, the fear of disorder and bloodshed may induce a degree of acceptance of authoritarian control, given the likely alternatives. 
          With the PKI annihilated, ABRI was the only significant force left.  The time was near to get rid of Sukarno.  Ironically, Sukarno then precipitated his own downfall.  Misjudging his popularity, in early 1966 he dismissed Nasution as Defense Minister and ABRI Chief.
[95]  In response, Ali Murtopo, an intelligence man and hard-core Suhartoist, stepped up his support for anti-Sukarno students who had taken to the streets under the banners of the Islamic University Students Association (HMI) and the Indonesian Students Action Group (KAMI).  He orchestrated mass rallies together with attacks on Subandrio’s Foreign Ministry and the Chinese Embassy.  The climax came on March 11, 1966, when the palace was surrounded by "unidentified" troops -- actually paratroops led by Sarwo Edhie, a hardline anti-Sukarnoist.  Sukarno panicked and fled to Bogor on a helicopter.  Suharto promptly sent three generals to the palace, and they convinced Sukarno to sign an order authorizing Suharto to "take all necessary steps" to guarantee secure, calm, and stable government.  Suharto interpreted this "11th of March Order" (Supersemar) as a legal transfer of power.

          Thus emboldened, Suharto took decisive action.  He dissolved the Presidential Guard, arrested Sukarnoist ministers (including Subandrio), and formed a new cabinet with himself as Defence Minister.  The Sultan of Jogjakarta was brought into the cabinet to lend Suharto an aura of legitimacy.  He also forced the PNI (Sukarno’s informal power base) to hold a special congress under the eyes of the Siliwangi Division.  This ensured that a Suhartoist chairman was "elected."

          Next, Suharto purged the military of Sukarnoists.  His own loyalists -- Sumitro, Dharsono, Surono, and so on -- were appointed as commanders of the Siliwangi, Diponegoro and Brawijaya Divisions, respectively.  The civil service and the National Front were also purged.  The final blow to Sukarno was delivered by none other than Nasution, as Chairman of the Provisional People’s Consultative Assembly (MPRS), the "king-making" body of the 1945 Constitution.  In March 1966, this body stripped Sukarno of his title of President for Life.  Later, symbolizing his total disempower-ment, he would be called to account for his role in Gestapu and "the economic and moral deterioration of the nation."[96]  In March 1967, the MPRS named Suharto as Acting President, officially withdrawing the mantle from Sukarno.  The formal transfer of power was effected a year later, when Suharto was confirmed as President.

          Of theoretical relevance in this discussion of the crisis and Suharto’s rise to power is the fact that the military establishment did not initiate the intervention, nor could it have.  Its leaders were not united enough to move against Sukarno.  They, especially Yani, had accepted Sukarno as a supreme leader, whatever differences existed over the role of the PKI.[97]  Finally, its place in the Guided Democracy regime was secure.  Moreover, the military had no pressing reason to intervene.  It would not necessarily be threatened even by Sukarno’s death or incapacitation.  Actually, it was the PKI that stood to lose if any such misfortune befell Sukarno.  One might surmise from the ease with which the top brass were eliminated in the Gestapu that they were not expecting trouble, much less contemplating a coup of their own at that point.

          On the other hand, Gestapu itself was, strictly speaking, an act of military intervention.  After all, it was carrried out by a military faction.  It may thus be viewed as an attempt by a segment of the military to reorganize political power on behalf of a political leader or leaders – Sukarno and perhaps some PKI figures (probably without their full knowledge or involvement).

          Gestapu suggests that military intervention is a phenomenon that is closely tied to the politics of the state, and as discussed theoretically, it will be ineffectual if carried out by a divided military or in the absence of a strongman-unifier.  It also serves as further evidence that authoritarian orders, being dependent on the balance of forces that the ruler establishes, are vulnerable to system instability whenever the ruler shows signs of physical or political decline.

          Regarding Suharto, he cannot, unlike Burma’s Ne Win (or Pibul and Sarit in Thailand), be classified as a military usurper.  His rise, the inquiry shows, was not the result of military intervention per se, but rather was an outcome of the military’s response to a situation in which both the state and its position within it was threatened.  The power vacuum within the military establishment created by Gestapu unified the military behind him -- making him as it were a de-facto military strongman-unifier -- and pushed him to the top.  This buttresses the theoretical observation that military intervention is highly likely when the military is unified under an undisputed leader, and the stability of the state is gravely threatened.  Further, Suharto might even be categorized as a constitutional authoritarian ruler.  This seems particularly apt given that he gained power constitutionally: Sukarno was eased out by maneouvres well within the framework of the 1945 Constitution, which is still in force and serves as the legal basis of Suharto’s state order. 

The Military and the Golkar Formula: The Simplification of State-Society Politics 
          The contours and structures of Sukarno’s Guided Democracy were intrinsically authoritarian; thus the transition from Sukarno to Suharto did not involve fundamental changes in the way power was organized.  In fact, Suharto was careful to preserve the form and structures of the "old" order as set out in the 1945 Constitution.
[98]   The same basic structures of political power obtain in his "New" Order: namely, a strong presid-ency; a largely "elected" legislative body or parliament (DPR); and the representation of regions and relevant functional groups, symbolized by the MPR (People's Consult-ative Assembly).[99] 

          Both Sukarno and Suharto based their rule on the 1945 Constitution and the five principles (or pillars) of Pancasila:  Belief in One God, Humanitarianism, National Unity, Social Justice, and People's Sovereignty.  It was primarily meant as a unifying doctrine.  Both leaders used Belief in One God to thwart Islamic goals, and National Unity was an overriding preoccupation.  Both leaders honored the other principles more symbolically than in practice, and they were able to manipulate all the pillars to serve their strategies of rule.  But in this respect, Suharto was the more skilful political craftsman, and he was more successful in implementing an authoritarian state under the 1945 constitution framework.  
          After Gestapu, Suharto was faced with the task of firming up a badly-shaken authoritarian order.  Fortunately, there was at that time no one to challenge the legitimacy of Sukarno’s hegemonizing-legitimizing formula, built around the 1945 Constitution and Pancasila,
[100] which all elite groups -- including ABRI and even the PKI -- had accepted as a "sacred" legacy of the revolution and integral to Indonesian nationhood.  Carl Friedrich and Zbigniew Brzezinski have pointed to this feature of authoritarian orders: that some degree of consensus may coexist with coercion.[101]  The constituting of the New Order was no easy task, however.  It involved rearranging forces to restore a balance among the constellation of state factions.  It also meant "taming" forces unleashed by Gestapu, especially Islamic forces, which had become politicized during the transition period.

          Suharto’s main problem at this juncture was how best to engineer the entrench-ing of what was then his only power base – the military – in the New Order’s political arena, where it could serve as a controlling and stabilizing force.  The politically sophisticated solution was a remodelling of the functional-group representation prin-ciple provided for in the Constitution.  The Sekber-Golkar, used to counter the PKI during the years of Guided Democracy, was revived.  It became Golkar, the govern-ment’s party, and was placed under ABRI control (though this control slackened over time, as explored below).  Golkar as the electoral machine of the regime.  Its overriding function was to win votes and seats, and thus allow ABRI and Suharto to control the representative-legislative sphere.  To this point, it has been successfully employed in six elections – 1971, 1977, 1982, 1987, 1992, and 1997 – that have served to stabilize and legitimize the New Order. 
          Golkar underwent several organizational reformulations before it was decided that Suharto, as chief supervisor, would be the supreme head.  He was empowered to dictate or veto any Golkar appointment.  Next in line came a Leadership Council consisting of a central executive board, along with executive boards from the provinces and regencies (administrative units).  The chair and other top positions on these boards were held by active or retired ABRI men.  Later they would pass to anyone particularly favoured by Suharto and ABRI.
[102]  
          As Reeve notes, Golkar is a versatile vehicle facilitating ABRI’s entry into politics and state institutions.  It also facilitates the movement of ABRI men among posts in the military, the Golkar leadership, and the representative-legislative sphere.
[103]  Conceptually, Golkar can be likened to the Burmese Socialist Program Party (BSPP).  Both were the instruments of the military and, ultimately, the ruler – Suharto and Ne Win respectively.  Certain differences should not be overlooked, however.  Suharto did not permit ABRI totally to dominate Golkar (and over time the military has ceased to dominate it), whereas the BSPP was simply a powerless façade for military rule.
          Worse still for ABRI’s power prospects, Suharto strengthened the civilian presence in the upper reaches of the New Order power structure.  At the end of 1993, he selected Harmoko as the first civilian chairman of Golkar – formerly ABRI’s political fief.  Harmoko is said to be an ally of Habibie -- Suharto's protege (and Minister of Research and Technology) -- and a rising star himself.
[104]  In addition, two of Suharto’s children – his daughter Tutut and son Bambang Trihadmodjo – were named vice-chair and treasurer of Golkar, respectively.[105]  Suharto clearly is attempting to build up a civilian-Islamic bloc through Habibie and others, as well as to strengthen the civilian component of Golkar.  He is trying to consolidate Golkar’s position as a political party that is able to withstand ABRI’s pressure and influence and which operates in the manner of, say, Mexico’s Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI).[106]   If he is successful, the sophisticated authoritarian order Suharto has so cleverly constructed may be maintained and even more firmly institutionalized.   In the future, presumably, Golkar will be led by his children and whichever ABRI figures or factions can be won over as allies.[107]  
          Golkar’s importance in the New Order scheme cannot be overemphasized.  It ensures the closure of the representative-legislative sphere to societal forces.
[108]  In addition, Golkar’s ability to fill representative-legislative bodies at all levels with a majority of loyal members has enabled ABRI (and ultimately Suharto) to dominate the MPR – the nation’s supreme body, which elects the President and draws the broad outlines of state policy.[109]  Without Golkar, ABRI would not easily have been able to assert its control over the representative-legislative sphere and politics more generally.  In short, the Golkar formula has enabled the New Order state to maintain an apparently open political arena, and to rule constitutionally while effectively marginalizing opposition parties and forces (like the Islamic groups) that might, given the opportunity, challenge the regime.  

          Unlike Bama and Thai strongmen, therefore, Suharto has succeeded in establishing restrictive control over a state-society framework that in principle is somewhat open and pluralistic -- in Linz's term, a "limited pluralism", where those who are allowed to participate in politics do so at the sufferance of those holding power.[110]  In Burma, Ne Win and the military could maintain their hegemony only by completely closing the political arena through a one-party state-society arrangement.  In Thailand, as will be shown, military leaders have had to live with a progressively more open political arena, as a result of the influence of the constitutional monarch on the political system. 

          The key to creating a subordinate but nominally pluralistic political arena lay in Suharto’s ability to "simplify" politics.  In this he was assisted by a succession of versatile aides: among them, Ali Murtopo, Sumitro, Sudomo (a naval admiral), and Benny Murdani.  In 1973, disparate and competing political parties were merged into two "opposition" or "minority" parties, with very little chance of one day becoming a ruling or majority one.  The result was two parties in permanent opposition, divided by their different views and platforms, and composed of squabbling camps and factions.  This made them highly vulnerable to the blandishments and threats of Suharto’s aides and their handpicked men in the DPR and MPR.  Further restrictions were imposed on campaign platforms and the use of certain symbols (the Kaaba, for example); other laws forced the adoption of Pancasila as the only creed.  Thus these parties became, as intended, shadows of political parties.[111]  

The Military: The New Order’s Dominators, Stabilizers and Dynamizers  
          Apart from this "simplification" of politics, the military exerted control over the population by dominating the public institutions with which ordinary people had to interact on a daily basis: the administrative machinery of the state.  Civil servants were forced to join Golkar or functional groups such as the Civil Servants Corps (KORPRI), and to swear loyalty to the state.  This meant they had to cut their ties to other parties and join Golkar.[112]  ABRI’s reach extended still further, in the form of a military-dominated hierarchy of extra-administrative bodies that oversaw (and intervened in) administration down to the village level.  Public servants and policy-implementing bodies were thereby deprived, to a large extent, of autonomy.[113]  Noteworthy here is that although soldiers could be said not to monopolize administrative bodies as in the past, the fact remains that ABRI is able to intervene when and where desired.  It has the clout to prevent actions that run counter to its interests or threaten its overall dominance.  In the early years, the presence of ABRI in the administrative sphere was almost as conspicuous as with the BSPP in Burma.  So, too, was the subordination of civilian bureaucrats to military men, who governed 17 out of 24 provinces and constit-uted over half of all bupatis and mayors.[114]  
          The ABRI further sought to impose control through surveillance and coercion, another feature that resembled Burma under Ne Win and presently.  Pivotal in this respect are intelligence and security agencies like the National Stability Coordination Board (BAKORSTANAS) and its predecessors, the State Intelligence Coordinating Body (BAKIN) and the Operational Command for the Restoration of Security and Order (KOPKAMTIB).  These enjoy wide powers to spy, intimidate, search, and arrest.  Like Burma's military intelligence agency (MIS), they are accountable only to the military ruler.[115]  KOPKAMTIB, for instance, was empowered to intrude in all spheres of society.  It intervened in police work and labour disputes.  It kept a watch on students, censored the press, spied on military officers, harassed Islamic parties and groups, and exerted pressure on ministries and administrative agencies as the situation demanded.  This is not to say, however, that Indonesia is a police state.  The degree and character of state intimidation varies and is dependent on the locality and situation.  Intimidation was more open and pervasive in the early years of the New Order than today.[116]   In East Timor, though, coercion and state terror remain facts of life.[117]  
          Control of the press is seen as particularly important to the regime’s control over society.  It is exercised in many ways, including outright banning.  More common is a telephone call requesting editors not to print certain articles or report on events, on pain of having the publication’s permit revoked or subscriptions cancelled.  Another is the "press briefing", where the press is given the "facts" of certain events.  Fear and self-censorship are the results, as well described by Adam Schwarz.[118]  Largesse may also be provided: an air-conditioned secretariat for the Indonesian Journalists Association; soft and long-term loans; cash favours or "envelopes"; substantial governmental subscriptions; free airline tickets for pilgrimages to Mecca; or dinners for senior editors with ministers and top military brass.[119]   In sum, the press in Indonesia undergoes periodic but regular liberalization -- usually followed by re-imposed restrictions.  In the open periods, the press has been surprisingly and remarkably free.  It has tended to push the limits and a clampdown inevitably follows when taboo topics -- for example, Suharto's retirement, his children, criticism of Islam -- are discussed.  (In Thailand, the taboo topic is the monarchy and the royal family). 
          ABRI’s success in entrenching itself in the state, and its position above society, have shaped the contours of the relationships that constitute the New Order.  First, its dominance has given soldiers the opportunity to become decision-makers, "legislators" in local assemblies and the national parliament, political managers and "politicians" in Golkar, and important administrators and policy formulators, as well as business man-agers.  As Andrew MacIntyre and Jamie Mackie note, ABRI is allocated one-fifth of parliamentary seats, in addition to the "elected" but military-nominated Golkar MPs.  Its members also hold important posts in key ministries (Home and Justice, for example) and the position of secretary of state.  The military exercises "wide powers of supervision and control over local officials and societal organizations throughout rural society."[120]

          Second, military control of political-administrative offices have allowed top officers to use the state apparatus and political power to amass wealth.[121]  As a consequence, an entire class has emerged whose standing is based almost solely on political power and/or state connections – a common feature of such authoritarian arrangements, as noted in the theoretical framework.  A case in point is Suharto himself.  Michael Vatikiotis claims he used his position as commanding officer of the Diponegoro Division and, later, as President to accumulate about US $2-3 billion; these were 1990-91 figures and were projected to grow rapidly.  The key to this wealth has been business deals or connections with Chinese cukong-entrepreneurs such as Liem Sioe Liong and Kian Siang (Bob Hassan).[122]  Other generals – for instance, Ibnu Sutowo, and even dissidents like Jasin, Sukendro, and Dharsono – have obtained state favours and used them to generate wealth.[123]  According to Murdani, a former Defence Min-ister and once a close aide to Suharto, an ordinary retired general could easily make US $1-2 million through contracts and tenders.[124]  ABRI’s dominance is such that, in Schwarz’s words, it would have been the envy of soldiers of several Latin American states.[125]  
          Third, and most important, the fact that the military wore three hats -- those of soldier, politician, and administrator -- knitted the four million civil servants together under military tutelage.  The result has been a relatively cohesive state stratum of armed and unarmed bureaucrats.
[126]  In the three decades since the birth of the New Order, members of this stratum have formed a cohesive social web, a "sub-society" separated especially from lower social strata.  One might add that, as in other Third World areas, the state has consciously created a collective awareness among state officials.  The identity is bolstered by provision of special privileges and prequisites, increased opportunities for family members, and the higher social status that accrues from "belonging" to a ruling or administering class.[127]  It can be seen as well in routines and rituals like the wearing of uniforms, Monday morning parades, member-ship in KORPI (or their wives’ in Dharma Wanita), and "P4" courses of Pancasila indoctrination (which is also taught in all the schools). 
          Members of this state stratum have also established links with elites in other spheres: businessmen, professionals, and intellectuals, as well as local notables and community leaders.  The regime’s carrot-and-stick strategy of co-option, combined with the social and patrimonial linking of the official class to other societal elites, has created a national "elite network" and an important degree of consensus.  Certain rules of the game have been established, based on not rocking the boat too vigorously, or seeking support outside elite circles (for example, by championing the cause of sub-ordinated social strata).
[128]  Such linkages, rules, and points of consensus are vital to the stability of authoritarian orders.  Non-state elite groups gain access to state resources; state elites live very comfortably, partly as a result of their extra-state connections.[129]  Like the Thai strongmen-rulers, then, but unlike Ne Win and the Tatmadaw in Burma, Suharto and ABRI have been able to broaden the base of authoritarianism and create an elite consensus.  In this manner the state has been strengthened and its autonomy heightened, particularly vis-à-vis the excluded and disenfranchised forces it dominates. 

Suharto and the Politics of Personal Domination  
          The view presented here of New Order Indonesia as a military-dominated polity is not meant to suggest that it is a military state – though in many ways it is that as well.  ABRI is certainly the main pillar of the New Order.  But it stands at the pinnacle of a state in which power, control, and key resources derive from the president and his close aides.
[130]  In his amassing of personal power, Suharto’s brand of authoritarianism is similar in many aspects to Sukarno’s, Ne Win’s, and the version implemented by Thai strongmen-rulers -- Pibul, Sarit, Thanom, and Praphart. 

          Still, Sukarno and Suharto do differ, notably in their personalities and visions.  Sukarno was impelled by a vague "Marxism" and a populist-nationalist romanticism which saw national politics as part of a struggle of the world’s downtrodden against global exploitation and oppression.  His enemies were more external than internal: Britain, the United States, and associated client regimes.  In this respect, Sukarno’s political vision was rather cosmopolitan.  By contrast, Suharto, who attained power fortuitously after the Gestapu, has necessarily been more narrowly focused.  Not exactly an insider in the pre-1965 ABRI hierarchy, despite his distinguished record,[131] Suharto nonetheless had the capacity to pursue his goals by means both pragmatic and manipulative.  His primary concern was to hold onto the power that fell into his hands and prevent the disintegration of a very shaky authoritarian state order.  This involved transforming ABRI into a loyal political tool that could be used to stabilize and strengthen both the state and Suharto’s dominance within it. 
          It is to Suharto’s great credit that he was able to restore and preserve an authoritarian order in a situation in which disparate forces, each with its own agenda, intruded into politics and sought to extract benefits from the new man at the centre.
[132]  The situation was dangerous, but provided Suharto as pivotal power-player with the opportunity to exploit these forces and the prevailing climate of anxiety.  He benefitted from the trauma of a "mass insanity": the communal killing throughout Indonesia.  Many hungered for a strong figure to stop the "madness," making the imposition of order the overriding priority. 
          Suharto seized the opportunity to remodel and refine the Sukarno system.  He focused his attention on the principle of functional group representation.  He used Golkar, which ostensibly existed to represent these groups, as a means of entrenching his power base in the military, politics, and the state, and the military's in politics.  It was also the method by which he dominated the legislative-representative arena, neutralizing political parties and Islamic forces.  Suharto loyalists – aides such as Ali Murtopo, Sumitro, Darjatmo, Amir Murtono, Sokowati, and Sapardjo – consolidated Golkar through their patient legwork, and steered it to victory in the first New Order elections of 1971.  With a majority in the new parliament (DPR), the Suharto group moved to simplify and re-structure the political parties, reducing them to two – the PPP (United Development Party) and PDI (Indonesian Democratic Party)– which were no match for Golkar. 
          The remodelling of the representative-legislative assemblies, the DPR and MPR, eroded whatever functional purpose they might have served.  As Vice-President Adam Malik put it, a parliamentarian’s life came to consist of the "four D’s" (in Bahasa Indonesian): clock in, collect your pay, sit back, and keep quiet.
[133]  Despite some more recent tendencies towards independence among legislators, the power of the representative-legislative bodies has been effectively circumvented, and deliberations skewed in favour of those who control Golkar – Suharto and ABRI.[134]   To clarify parliamentarians, especially those in the military and Golkar fraksi (division), have debated and expressed concerns over specific issues, and delayed some government bills.  They have even campaigned against the government in connection, for example, with public lotteries and increase in electricity prices.  But, as McIntyre points out, the DPR (parliament) has been unable to change government policy, and its ability to constrain government actions remains very limited, however.[135]
          After establishing unchallenged hegemony in this sphere, Suharto moved swift-ly to tame the only force left that was capable of challenging him.  Well aware of ABRI’s history of insubordination, he set out to set his personal stamp on its function-ing.  First, he rallied those who had dutifully served him, largely in an intelligence or special-operations capacity.
[136]  The "special aides" (for example, Murtopo, Sumitro, and later, Murdani) were drawn into the inner circle, and charged with managing "general and specific affairs".  That meant their jurisdiction and power were unlimited – or rather, limited only by Suharto.  They also moved into key positions within ABRI, the ministries, security and intelligence bodies, economic and development agencies, and the Golkar machinery.  Because they owed their status to Suharto, he was able effectively to play one off against the other.  This "palace polit-ics" kept the "palace generals" divided.  The man at the centre, ever vigilant, could clip the wings of excessively ambitious up-and-comers.[137] 
          Suharto likewise moved to rid ABRI of rivals and potential challengers, like
Burma's Ne Win.  The first to go was Nasution, the only general officer who outranked him, thanks to Gestapu.[138]  He was shifted upstairs as MPRS chairman, used to discredit and sideline Sukarno, and then marginalized himself.  Next to go (in the late 1960s) were the "New Order radicals" -- Sarwo Edhie, Kemal Idris, and Dharsono.  They had played pivotal roles in installing Suharto and destroying both the PKI and the Sukarnoists, just as Sarit rid himself of the Phao-Phin faction, and Ne Win of most members of the original Revolutionary Council.[139]  Over the years, other generals were jettisoned.[140]  By the 1980s, Suharto had successfully weathered challenges from both ABRI and the inner circle.  He was his own man.  Suharto’s long tenure as President further elevated his status to that of supreme-leader and father figure – not just for New Order acolytes, but for the nation as a whole.

          ABRI was also restructured to diminish the power of those in the formal chain of command.  A series of military reorganizations reduced the autonomy of the Air Force and the Navy, bringing them under the control of the Department of Defence and Security (HANKAM).  This, in turn, was always controlled by a Suharto loyalist.  The operational capacity of Area Command was likewise reduced.  Crack units were placed under HANKAM and came to form part of the Strategic Reserve (KOSTRAD) and the Secret Warfare Force (Kopassandha), both under loyalist direction.

          Suharto also initiated what Jenkins has called a system of "doubling-up of functions", wherein powerful aides hold each other in check.  In the late 1970s, for example, Chief Mohammad Jusuf, who served as ABRI Chief, Minister of Defence, and head of HANKAM, had Murdani and Sudomo as deputies.  Sudomo, as head of KOPKAMTIB, had Murdani and Yoga under him; Murdani also served as Yoga’s deputy when the latter headed BAKIN.  All were granted direct access to Suharto, turning the strongman into their chief manipulator and arbiter.[141]  
          ABRI as an institution was kept happy and busy through the political openings provided to active and retired personnel alike.  This opened up new career paths and avenues of influence for military men, who served as Golkar functionaries and appointed or "elected" members of the DPR and MPR.  In addition, as noted, soldiers held positions in ministerial bureaucracies, the judiciary, the military-territorial administration, the civil administration, and the state enterprises – Pertamina, Bulog, Inkopad, Perhutani, Berdikari, and the state banks.
[142]  Top-echelon soldiers were well-positioned to grant or withhold permits, licenses, contracts, credits, and protection to local entrepreneurs (mainly ethnic Chinese) and domestic or foreign entrepreneurs.  In exchange, top ABRI men would receive a share of the profits, commissions, board memberships, and jobs for family members and clients.[143]  Being so well-rewarded, these figures were unlikely to risk their future prospects by moving against a ruler who had become their father-benefactor.  This is a useful reminder that while disgruntled or idealistic officers might arise to challenge the status quo, the vast majority tends to be occupied taking advantage of the opportunities the military system has to offer to risk challenging the system.  The pivotal role of Suharto, the military strongman-ruler, as described above, is in agreement with the theoretical observation that states that military-authoritarian rulers play a pivotal role in the re-structuring of the state and that to a large extent they determine the configuration of power among state elements, and in particular, the military's position within the system. 
          And yet challenges to Suharto did arise within ABRI.  The earliest, albeit indirect, occurred in 1973-74.  It was rooted in the rivalry between intelligence men: Sumitro of KOPKAMTIB and Juwono of BAKIN, on the one hand, and Suharto’s staffers Murtopo and Humardhani, on the other.  The challenge coincided with turbulence linked to Islamic protests against the Marriage Bill, which gave non-Islamic groups an equal voice in marriage and family-related matters.  A rice crisis and student protests against the technocratic economic strategy and Japanese "domination" added to the volatile brew.  Sumitro and Juwono sympathized with the protesters and their attacks, not just against ABRI’s Dual Function doctrine, but against corrupt members of the elite, including those close to Suharto and his wife.  Typical of the opaque "palace politics" that predominate in authoritarian orders, there were even allegations that the students had been egged on by the Sudomo-Murtopo clique and used to discredit Sumitro.  The climax was widespread rioting and the "Malari" incident, followed by repression, mass detentions, and the muzzling of the press.  An important consequence of "Malari" was the purging of Sumitro and his group, which marked Suharto’s rise to full supremacy.  No subsequent challenge to Suharto has ever arisen among officers on active duty.  Nor have elite challengers sought to forge linkages with subordinated elements in waging their intra-military or intra-elite battles.
[144]  
          Opposition to Suharto emerged again in the late 1970s.  This time it was led by former generals, with Nasution at the forefront.
[145]  They were eventually joined by well-known former leaders like Mohammed Hatta (co-founder, with Sukarno, of modern Indonesia).  Former Prime Ministers and ex-cabinet ministers joined the cause.[146]  They expressed concern over the direction of Suharto’s profit-driven development strategies, the growing gap between rich and poor, and the pervasive corruption.[147]  Their allegations reached into the inner circle, targetting "Pak (Father) Harto", Mrs. Suharto, and business cronies of the President.[148]  The group’s main focus, though, was on Suharto’s "distortion" of the Dual Function doctrine, the Pancasila principle, the 1945 Constitution, and the close identification between Golkar and ABRI.  The challengers contended that ABRI’s fused identity with Golkar, and by extension with the personal ruler, had turned it into nothing more than the tool of the ruling group.  They argued, instead, that ABRI should stand "above all groups".  Their campaign culminated in May 1980 with the "Statement of Concern" signed by fifty prominent figures (the "Petisi 50" or Petition 50 Group).  The statement charged that Suharto, in consolidating his personal position, had divided rather than united the nation.

          The challenge by Nasution and the others seemed to gain adherents in the inner circle, including Adam Malik,[149] Generals Alamsjah, Jusuf, and Widodo.  The last two produced the Jusuf "blue book" and the Widodo Papers, which sought to redefine ABRI as a force that stood "as one with the people," independent of the government of the day and particular power-holders.  They advocated the reduction of ABRI’s involvement in non-military affairs, and proposed that it be placed above all political groups, including Golkar.[150]

          But the opposition withered when Suharto lashed out, warning ABRI would have to "choose friends", and that "enemies" would be isolated and destroyed.[151]  The ease with which Suharto was able to overcome this challenge indicates just how strong he had become, and how pervasive was his aura of power and invulnerability.

          The President’s dominance was further reinforced in 1983, when a substantial number of officers reached retirement age and Benny Murdani was made the new ABRI Chief.  He set about "rationalizing" ABRI’s command structure, further central-izing control in the hands of Suharto loyalists.  As Schwarz, Vatikiotis, and others have pointed out, increasingly, ABRI brass found themselves outside the decision-making loop.[152]  A case in point is Suharto’s appointment of General Sudharmono, whom ABRI disliked, as Vice President in 1988.  Sudharmono was viewed by ABRI, while chairman of Golkar (1983-88), as building a rival civilan power-base through the diversion of tenders and contracts to non-military clients and cronies.  ABRI’s attempts to block his "election" as Vice-President in 1988 proved futile (although it was able to replace Sudharmono with it's candidate, Wahano, as Golkar chairman in 1988).[153]  This is not to say ABRI has not been able, subtly, to assert a degree of autonomy.  For instance, it did manage to get its choice, Sutrisno, selected as, Vice-President for the 1993-98 term (before Suharto made known his choice).[154]

          The absence, as Schwarz and Vatikiotis note, of credible opponents within the military in the 1990s has meant that Suharto can largely ignore the military’s political opinions.[155]  As part of his effort to gain wider support, Suharto has worked to mend fences with a faction of "political Islam".  In December 1990 he sanctioned the establishment of the Association of Muslim Intellectuals (ICMI), led by a rising protégé, the Minister of Research and Technology B.J. Habibie.[156]   Significantly, not a single ABRI man attended Habibie’s inauguration.[157]  Suharto followed this up with a 1991 pilgrimage to Mecca, his family and loyal retainers in tow.[158]
          Suharto is very much in control of ABRI.  According to one long-time observer, all military promotions receive the President’s personal approval.
[159]  Suharto also handpicks the heads of the military services and the police.  He has final say over who commands KOSTRAD (the Strategic Reserve), the Jakarta regional command, and the special strike force, the Kopassus Regiment.[160]  The new Army Chief of Staff, Raden Hartono, is reportedly close to Suharto’s daughter, Tutut (Siti Hardijanti Rukmana).  He also has close ties to current Suharto protégés B.J. Habibie (Minister of Research and Technology and head of the Association of Muslim Intellectuals, ICMI) and Harmoko (civilian chairman of Golkar).[161]   On the whole, ABRI has been loyal to Suharto for almost thirty years, serving the ruler as a power base and instrument of the New Order state.    
          Suharto has, as a personal ruler, certainly been an astute observer and manipulator of his lieutenants and clients.  He has also taken great care to cultivate the loyalty, cooperation and support of groups within an oligarchical ruling circle.  And at the time, he has been quite successful in eliminating their autonomous political power and influence.  In the context of personal rulership style as discussed by Robert Jackson and Carl Rosberg, one might describe Suharto's rulership style as that of a prince and an autocrat.
[162]   Small wonder that William Liddle refers to Suharto as the "Indonesian king".[163]

          The distinction between public and private spheres in strategies of rule is essentially a Western concept.  But it not a concept that can be easily ignored.[164]  On the other hand, the notions of "mandate of heaven" and divine right that once justified personal rule lack legitimacy nowadays.  All contemporary states, including Suharto’s, formally subscribe to the notion that the state and/or government are public institutions serving the common good.  In Indonesia, however, there is a wide gap, as Liddle stresses, between "the proclaimed democratic values and authoritarian practices"[165] -- that is, between the public orientation of rulership and the private exercise of power by a ruler who is "unaccountable to constituencies beyond the army ... [and] most of the time not even to the army".[166]  This may not augur well for Indonesia’s future. 
          As indicated by the analysis, above, Suharto's New Order state is, unlike Ne Win's BSPP state, a complex military-authoritarian state.  It is also quite a distinctive one, being more open than many such orders.  There are three political parties that "compete" in periodic, regular elections, and there are legislative assemblies that debate issues, elect the chief executive, and lay down state policies.  On the other hand, however, the configuration of state-society interaction and the pattern of relative-autonomy relations in Suharto’s New Order evince all the central characteristics, as Heeger notes -- and discussed in the theoretical chapters -- of military-authoritarian orders. 
          These include: (a) the transformation of political roles and actors into bureau-cratic ones; (b) key powerholders’ increasing personal control over the political-administrative bureaucracy and state institutions; and (c) the erosion of rational-legal bureaucratic norms throughout the polity and their replacement by personal, particular-istic practices.  There obtains a pattern of autonomy relations where the pre-eminent ruler enjoys the greatest degree of relative autonomy vis-à-vis the state and its institutions.  Possessing a somewhat lesser degree of autonomy are military men and other subordinate power-holders.  Thus, both Indonesian state institutions and Indonesian society enjoy less autonomy vis-à-vis Suharto and subordinate key officials.  The state is more malleable, less insulated, and more responsive to state officials (especially Suharto); it is the opposite where society is concerned.
[167] 

The Problem and Politics of Transition:
Indonesia After Suharto  
          We have seen that the New Order state is, on balance, Suharto’s creation and most responsive to him.  His authority and influence is firmly anchored in the state, and extends into the political sphere as well.
[168]  This situation is inherently unstable, as the discussion in the theoretical chapters (Chapter 2, in particular) suggest -- more so when the strongman-ruler is in physical decline and/or, with the passage of time, approaching the end of his rule.  Like all men, Suharto is mortal.  The fact that he is not a dynastic ruler means that whatever stability and legitimacy he has won for both the Presidency and New Order institutions could be reversed without him at the helm.[169] 
          A further complication is Suharto’s seeming unwillingness to designate a military man in active service as his successor, which keeps both aspirants and analysts guessing.
[170]  As Vakiotis notes, all vice-presidents either have been ABRI men not on active command, or civilians.  This is true of the Golkar chairmanship as well.[171]  Suharto’s strategy here apparently aims to ensure that his grown children, who head vast economic "empires", are protected into the future.[172]  Knowledgeable sources in Jakarta suggest that a military successor to Suharto would not likely be kind to them.[173]  
          As Suharto’s departure from the scene looms closer,
Indonesia faces a potentially grave problem of succession and/or transition.  This is exacerbated by the tension between notions of popular sovereignty and the practice of personal rule, and complicated too by far-reaching changes in the country’s economic base, owing to resource exports (particularly the oil boom of the 1970s), inflows of foreign aid and capital, and the "liberalizing" reforms of the late 1980s.[174]  The transformations have led to the evolution of a distinct economic sphere closely tied to regional and global regimes of finance, investment and trade.  These would seem to require a more legal-rational orientation and reduced state control and corruption.[175] 
          The more complex capitalist economy has given rise to a small, but vibrant "middle-class" stratum and has engendered the hope that authoritarianism might be diluted by the new stratum’s aspirations for greater participation and more rights.  It has been argued, for example, that the "new"economy gives greater space to organized business interests to exert their influence.  Bargaining relationships have arisen, as Andrew McIntyre suggest, between the state and some industry groups -- especially in the insurance, textile, and pharmaceutical sectors.
[176]  Further evidence of the new middle-class assertiveness is the proliferation of NGOs representing those adversely affected by existing development policies.  Among these are the Legal Aid Institute (LBH), the Democracy Forum, the Institute for the Defence of Human Rights, a state sanctioned labor union (the SPSI, or the All Indonesia Workers Union), and an independent, not legally registered labor union, along with a range of non-profit social and charity concerns.[177]  Recent years have also seen the rise of numerous small self-help groups under such umbrellas as the Institution for Promoting Self-Reliant Community Development (LPM) and the Self-Reliant Community Development Insitute (LSM).[178]   As Liddle cautions, however, most of these NGOs are tiny and resource-poor.[179]

          Another line of argument is possible.  Despite economic "modernization," Mackie stresses that both the middle class and the bourgeoisie are small and hetero-geneous; the bourgeoisie, in addition, is mostly ethnic Chinese.[180]   The rural and urban propertied class is prevented by state elements from intruding into politics or exerting political power.[181]   Given the nature of the middle class and the hierarchical social order, not to mention the social structures that shape political culture, hopes for a middle-class-led democratic transition may be misplaced.[182]  
          Future state-society arrangements in
Indonesia therefore rest largely in the hands of state elements and Suharto himself.  Suharto’s main problem is how to extend his "consolidated or mature authoritarianism" into the future, and prevent power from falling under the sway of a military strongman who might be hostile to his children and their wealth.  An equally important concern is to prevent the rise of other forces -- for example, Islamic extremists -- who might overturn the institutions that Suharto has so skilfully crafted. 
          For ABRI, the challenge is more or less to maintain the status quo.  It would like to regain some of the dominance it has lost under Suharto recently.  Mostly, ABRI wants a successor chosen from its combat ranks (not officers from the legal or bureaucratic sections, like Sudharmono).  Its worst nightmare would be a successor whose power-base is in the civilian sectors of Golkar or the bureaucracy, or -- worse still -- one beholden to political Islam.
[183]  This scenario would almost certainly invite military intervention.  The political game in Indonesia thus may come to centre not on the configuration of state-society relations as such, but on competing elements of the state stratum.  But because ABRI is not monolithic and is politically cohesive only when unified by a strongman, it is possible that there may be a round of vigorous and possibly protracted military intrusions.




------------------------------------ E N D N O T E S -----------------------------------------

CHAPTER FOUR:
INDONESIA: MILITARY INTERVENTION AND THE POLITICS OF AUTHORITARIAN DOMINATION




[1]  The Indonesian Armed Forces is currently known as Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia (ABRI). Its forerunners were the Volunteer Force for the Defence of Java (PETA), formed by the Japanese in October 1943; the People’s Security Agency (BKR), formed in August 1945; the People’s Security Army (TKR), formed in October 1945; the Army of the Republic of Indonesia (TRI), formed in 1946); and the Indonesian National Army (TNI), formed in May 1947. ABRI’s various incarnations were clarified by General Soedibyo of the National Defence Institute in an interview in Jakarta (June 1993).

 

[2]   For a discussion of the changes that Dutch colonialism wrought on the loosely linked "inland-states" and "harbor principalities" of present-day "Indonesia", and the resulting "distorted" form of capitalism, see Mochtar Pabottingi, "Nationalism and Egalitarianism in Indonesia, 1908-1980", unpublished doct-oral dissertation, University of Hawaii, Honolulu, 1991, esp. pp. 58, 138-179. See also David J. Steinberg et al., In Search of Southeast Asia: A Modern History (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1985), esp. pp. 146-154, 184-187; J.S. Furnivall, Netherlands India: A Study of the Plural Economy (London: Cambridge University Press, 1944).

 

[3]   Steinberg et al., In Search, pp. 80-86.  See also Theodoor G.T. Pigeaud, Java in the Fourteenth Cent-ury (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1962); Soemarsaid Moertono, The State and Statecraft in Old Java (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1968); Soedjatmoko et al, ed., An Introduction to Indonesian Histor-iography (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1965).

 

[4]   For a discussion of the symbiotic relationship between the Dutch and native rulers (together with the indigenous aristocracy), see Pabottingi, "Nationalism and Egalitarianism", pp. 38-70.

 

[5]   In the 17th century, the Dutch were the "diligent servants of a great merchant company".  In the 18th, by contrast, they were "uninterested in governance" and were "essentially alien war bands, extracting what they could from conquered territories by the most expedient means". In the 19th century, "they gradually became civil servants of a colonial state".  See Steinberg, et al., In Search, p. 146.  The twists and turns of Dutch colonial policy and its consequences are covered in such classic works as Furnivall, Netherlands India, and Clifford Geertz, Agricultural Involution: The Processes of Ecological Change in Indonesia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1963).

 

[6]  The administrative machinery was controlled by the Dutch to the extent that only 221 high-ranking positions were held by "natives" out of a total of some 3,000. Moreover, the Volksraad or People's Council, established in 1918, was merely an advisory body.  See Feith, The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1962), pp. 5-6.

 

[7]  For comprehensive works on nationalist and radical movements, see George McT. Kahin, Nation-alism and Revolution in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1952); Ruth McVey, The Rise of Indonesian Communism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1965); W.F. Wertheim, Indonesian Society in Transition (Bandung: W. van Hoeve Ltd., 1959); and Deliar Noer, The Modernist Muslim Movement in Indonesia, 1900-1942 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1973).

 

[8]  Benedict Anderson explores the creation of a common "nationhood" under colonial rule, the incipiently-nationalist class of "native" functionaries and elites, and the birth of the “national imagination” in his Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983). Although the details may be debated, the importance of an imagined affinity between strangers to the formation of a common "national" identity must be recognized.

 

[9]  Pabottingi, "Nationalism and Egalitarianism",  p. 188.  For Budi Utomo, see Robert Van Niel, The Emergence of the Modern Indonesian Elite (Bandung: W. van Hoeve Ltd., 1960), and Akira Nagazumi, The Dawn of Indonesian Nationalism: The Early Years of Boedi Oetomo (Tokyo: Institute of Develop-ing Economies, 1972).  It is also discussed in McVey, The Rise.

 

[10]  McVey, The Rise, pp. 96-97. It advocated a state accountable to the people, common ownership of wealth, the distribution of products and profit by a popular assembly, and other radical measures. Accounts of Sarekat Islam are found in all works on nationalism and revolution in Indonesia, e.g., Kahin, Nationalism; Noer, The Modernist; Bernhard Dahm, Sukarno and the Struggle for Indonesian Independence (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1969); and James L.Peacock, Muslim Puritans: Re-formist Psychology in Southeast Asian Islam (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978).

 

[11]  It was founded by H.J.F. M. Sneevliet (a Dutchman, and member of the Dutch Social Democratic Workers’ Party, or SDAP). The best and most comprehensive work on the PKI is McVey, The Rise. See also Jeanne S. Mintz, Mohammed, Marx, and Marhaen (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1965).  In 1926 the PKI launched an ill-prepared, poorly-coordinated "inglorious revolution", which was easily and harshly crushed, ending its activities for a time. See McVey, The Rise, pp. 230, 289, 305-303, 342.  See also Mintz, Mohammed, p. 33. Over 13,000 communists and participants were arrested. Many were interned at the notorious Boven Digul camp in New Guinea, some for over a decade.

 

[12]  Sukarno’s life is well covered in the scholarly literature.  See John D. Legge, Sukarno: A Political Biography (Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1975); Donald E. Weatherbee, Ideology in Indonesia: Sukarno’s Indonesian Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966); Willard A.Hanna, Bung Karno’s Indonesia (New York: American Universities Field Staff, 1961); Louis Fischer, The Story of Indonesia (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1959); C.L.M. Penders, The Life and Times of Sukarno (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1974); Dahm, Sukarno; and Cindy Adams, My Friend the Dictator (Indiana-polis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965).

 

[13]  A good analysis of Sukarno’s contribution to Indonesian national identity is found in Pabottingi, "Nationalism and Egalitarianism", pp. 240-277.  

 

[14]  The term was coined by Sukarno to denote the "little people". These included peasant farmers and street-stall operators, who were not proletariats because they owned the means of production – land, buffaloes, ploughs, etc. Nor did they sell their labour; but this did not keep them from facing grinding poverty.  See Legge, Sukarno, pp. 72-73.

 

[15]  He never had "close contact with the masses, but regarded them, when mobilized, as a political tidal wave". Pabottingi, "Nationalism and Egalitarianism", p. 257. On Pancasila, see endnote #21 below.

 

[16]  The imposition of the "family" in things political apparently aims to assert the hegemony of pater-nalistic authoritarianism. At best, it represents an overly simplistic equation of a larger and more compl-ex socio-political-economic formation with the family – a basic social unit. It also romanticizes and overemphasizes the family’s role in promoting the welfare of its members. However, Third World power-holders have been quite successful in manipulating "family values" and "community" to perpet-uate a paternalist, authoritarian "political culture". Part of their success derives from the fact that the family and patrimonial networking are often effective in ensuring survival and upward mobility. Such patrimonialism is by definition particularistic, however; it is also private, not public.

 

[17]  For Dewantoro’s and Supomo’s thoughts, see Reeve, Golkar, pp. 9-25.  See also Herbert Feith and Lance Castel, eds., Indonesian Political Thinking, 1945-65 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1962).

 

[18]  David Reeve, Golkar, pp. 9-20 (Dewantoro’s thoughts), 20-25 (Supomo’s), 25-36 (Sukarno’s). Their views have much in common with those of Mihail Manoilesco, regarded by Philippe Schmitter as the pioneer of "state corporatism". Manoilesco sees a state-society relation as a complete system of political domination, articulated by a nationalistic-statist, corporatist hierarchy of authority, whereby "artificial [and] circumstantial" class differentiations and antagonisms would be replaced by a spirit of "national solidarity". His vision takes into account the underdevelopment of the peripheries, the delay-ed-dependent capitalism, and the pervasive resentment of their populations in the face of their own "inferiority". His solution is a "defensive, nationalistic modernization from above" via the division of the polity into vertical units of interest-aggregation. See Philippe C. Schmitter, "Still The Century of Corporatism?", in Frederick B. Pike and Thomas Stritch, eds., The New Corporatism: Social and Polit-ical Structures in the Iberian World (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1974), pp. 85-131.

 

[19]  On Sukarno’s conception of the state, see Reeve, Golkar, pp. 25-36.  See also Sukarno, National-ism, Islam, and Marxism, trans. Karel H. Warouw and Peter D.Weldon, with an introduction by Ruth McVey (Ithaca: Cornell Indonesian Project, 1970); Legge, Sukarno; Dahm, Sukarno; Feith and Castel, Indonesian.

 

[20]  For details of these "armies", see Harry Benda, The Crescent and the Rising Sun: Indonesian Islam Under the Japanese Occupation (The Hague: Van Hoeve, 1958).

 

[21]  Sukarno formulated Pancasila (the Five Principles: Nationalism, Internationalism or Humanitarian-ism, Consensus or Democracy, Social Justice and Belief in God) as a "common denominator of all ideologies and streams of thoughts". See Adam Schwarz, A Nation in Waiting: Indonesia in the 1900s (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen and Unwin, 1994), p. 10. However, the Five Principles have changed over time: "Nationalism" has been replaced by "National Unity", "Internationalism" has been dropped, and "Democracy" has been replaced by "People's Sovereignty".  See Adnan Buyung Nasution, The Aspiration for Constitutional Government in Indonesia: A Socio-Legal Study of the Indonesian Konstituante, 1956-1959 (Jakarta: Sina Harapan, 1992), p.547. 

 

[22]   These were the Hizbu’llah, Barisan Banteng (the Buffalo Corps, formerly Barisan Pelopor), the socialist-led Pesindo (Pemuda Sosialis Indonesia), the communist-led Laskar Rakyat (People’s Army), remnant units of the disbanded PETA, and a host of others outside Java (in Sumatra, the Celebes, etc.). For this period of militia politics, see Benedict R.O’G. Anderson, Java in a Time of Revolution: Occup-ation and Resistance1944-1946 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1972); also, Guy Pauker, "The Role of the Military in Indonesia", in J.J.Johnson, ed., The Role of the Military (Princeton: Princeton Univ-ersity Press, 1962), pp. 185-230.

 

[23]  The Dutch refused to recognize the "Republic of Indonesia", but were forced to negotiate with the “government” of Sutan Sjahrir (a socialist).  Under the terms of the Linggadjati Agreement (November 1946), the Republic’s de facto authority over Java and Sumatra was recognized, and a Netherlands-Indonesian Union was tentatively agreed upon. In late 1947, however, the Dutch sprang a military offensive, and soon controlled most major towns. At that point, the United Nations intervened. The Renville Agreement was signed in August 1947.

 

[24]  Among those who fought, apart from the military, were militant Muslims of the Darul Islam move-ment in West Java. Darul Islam was led by a Muslim politician, S.M. Kartosuwijo, whose aim was to establish an Islamic State of Indonesia. (He was captured and executed in 1962.) See Adam Schwarz, A Nation in Waiting: Indonesia in the 1900s (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen and Unwin, 1994), pp. 169 -170; also Ulf Sundhaussen, The Road To Power: Indonesian Military Politics,1945-1967 (Kuala Lum-pur: Oxford University Press, 1982), p. 43. For some feeling of the intense but confused conflict and rivalries among nationalist groups and leaders during the formative period, see Anderson, Java in a Time of Revolution.

 

[25]  For an analysis of the early Indonesian military and its factional composition, see Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 13-18.

 

[26]  This was actually an "interim or provisional government".  Independence had not yet been achieved, in that the Dutch still opposed it and few countries internationally had recognized it.

 

[27]  Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 18-40.

 

[28]  General Sudirman was regarded as the father of the armed forces. For a study of his role and attitudes, based largely on Indonesian sources and documents, see Salim Said, Genesis of Power: General Sudirman and the Indonesian Military in Politics, 1945-49 (Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1992).

 

[29]  Sutan Sjahrir, Our Struggle (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1968), p. 36. Also see Sund-haussen, The Road,, pp. 20-21. The Sultan, however, became Minister of Defence, 1948-53.

 

[30]  Tan Malaka was a veteran communist who broke away from the PKI because of a disagreement over the armed uprising of 1926-1927. He formed the Partai Murba (Proletarian Party), and also led the PP (the United Struggle), a front that opposed negotiations with the Dutch. He was killed in the confusion of the War of Independence in February 1949, four months before the Dutch military with-drawal.

 

[31]  The "Madiun Affair" was essentially a fight between army units slated to be disbanded, which were allied to PKI laskars, and the Siliwangi Division, the key unit of the new army, allied to Tan Malaka’s laskars. See Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 39-40.  For details, see Kahin, Nationalism, pp. 272-303.  See also Oey Hong Lee, Power Struggle in Southeast Asia (Zug, Switzerland: Inter Documentation Co., 1976), pp. 64-65. Musso, the veteran PKI leader, was killed; Amir Sjarifuddin, a provisional Prime Minister who signed the Renville Agreement in 1948, was captured and executed by the army.

 

[32]  The democratic framework was advanced by the political parties, and in particular by Hatta and Sjahrir, who looked askance at the traditional collectivism of Dewantoro, Supomo, and Sukarno. See Reeve, Golkar, pp. 9-25.  Feith suggests the parliamentary framework was adopted despite the fact that the leaders did not understand how it worked, or what it really meant. Rather, it was settled on because it was at the time a "universal" convention: all former colonies, including Indian and Burma, adopted it. Besides, there was not even a rough agreement on any other constitutional arrangement.  See Feith, The Decline, pp. 38-45. 

 

[33]  Ibid.  Sukarno’s advocacy of an authoritarian system – embodied in the 1945 Constitution – was opposed by Vice President Hatta, who favored a mix of Western parliamentary forms with "indigen-ous" village democracy. Sjahrir and other socialists strongly opposed Sukarno’s emphasis on an all-submerging kind of unity. After independence (in 1949), Sjahrir, with Hatta in support, pushed for a system of multi-party parliamentary democracy. For an analysis of the early debates among leading figures over the shape of the political system, see David Reeve, Golkar of Indonesia: An Alternative to the Party System (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1985), esp. pp. 58-107. Also, Nasution, The Aspiration for Constitutional Government.

 

[34]  Leo Suryadinata, Military Ascendancy and Political Culture (Athens: Ohio University Center for International Studies, 1989), pp. 2-3.

 

[35]  For an analysis of how the rulers of the New Order, the military, portray the parliamentary years of the 1950s, see David Bouchier, "The 1950s in New Order Ideology and Politics", in David Bouchier and John Legge, eds., Democracy in Indonesia: the 1950s and the 1990s (Clayton, Victoria: Center of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1994), pp. 50-62.

 

[36]  A very detailed account of politicking in the pre-Guided Democracy years is offered by Feith in The Decline.

 

[37]  They were the Natsir government (a coalition led by Masjumi, lasting from September 1950 to March 1951); Sukiman (under Masjumi, April 1951 to February 1952); Wilopo (led by the PNI, April 1951 to June 1953); Ali Sastoamidjojo (also under the PNI, July 1953 to July 1955); Buhanuddin Harahap (led by Masjumi, August 1955 to March 1956); and Ali’s second cabinet (PNI-led, March 1956 to March 1957). Frequent changes in government, though, may not have been the key factor in the dangerous instability that developed. Such instability may have stemmed more from struggles between military factions, the military rebellions against civilian control, and Sukarno’s flaming rhetoric, than from democratic politics. In democracies, moreover, "instability" is plainly visible, while the instability inherent in authoritarianism is "invisible" to those outside. We hence observe the unexpected collapse of seemingly invincible, stable authoritarian orders

 

[38]  The politicians were Zainal Baharuddin (Socialist), Zainul Arifin (NU/Nahdatul Ulama), Arudji Kartawinata (PSII/Partai Syarikat Islam Indonesia), and Iwa Kusumasumantri and Mohammed Yamin from Murba, the fringe communist group founded by the late Tan Malaka --a veteran nationalist and an unorthodox communist. He numbered among his followers Adam Malik (who served under Sukarno, became a supporter of the staunchly anti-communist Suharto, and was rewarded with cabinet posts and the vice-presidency). 

 

[39]  Those opposing Nasution were mostly Javanese ex-PETA officers, including Colonels Bambang Supeno (close to Sukarno), Bambang Suseng, Zulkifli Lubis (Chief of Intelligence), and others. They sometimes sided with politicians against Nasution, and sometimes with Nasution against politicians.  Later, Lubis played a prominent part in the anti-Nasution revolts of regional military commanders, generally known as the "regional revolts".

 

[40]  But without seeking exclusive domination, according to Nasution.  See Harold Crouch, The Army and Politics in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), p. 39.

 

[41]  The account given here is only a very simplified account of the affair. For details of the convoluted intra-military politics leading to the "17 October Affair", see Feith, The Decline, pp.259-269. It began as a military move against "interference" by parliament and politicians. But it soon deteriorated into jockeying between pro- and anti-Nasution military cliques when Sukarno, offended by the demonstration by tanks and troops outside the palace, took a firm stand. According to Feith (p. 262), Sukarno initially favoured the military plot, but changed his mind after disagreement arose over the officers and politic-ians to be arrested following the coup.

 

[42]  As the above events suggest, the "civilian-military" crisis did not stem from fights between discrete bodies over principles. Rather, it illuminates the nature of Third World politics, with its personalism, shifting alliances, and uncertain loyalties. See Sundhaussen, The Road, p. 85 (based on Order of the Day No.1/KSAD/ PH/55, 8 July 1955).

 

[43]  After his dismissal, Nasution sponsored a military-supported political party, the IP-KI (League of Upholders of Indonesian Independence) to contest the first general elections, held in 1955. Significant-ly, it fared poorly, as did pro-military parties in Burma in 1960 and 1990. It won only 1.4 percent of the popular vote, and 4 out of 267 seats. The PNI won 22 percent of the vote (for 57 seats); Masjumi, 21 percent (for 57 seats); and the NU, 18.4 percent (for 45 seats). The PKI also made headway, winning 16.4 percent of the vote and 39 seats. See Suryadinata, Military Ascendancy, pp. 135-136 (Appendix B). For a detailed study of the 1955 elections, see Herbert Feith, The Indonesian Elections of 1955 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1971). What is interesting is that the IP-KI’s platform largely reflect-ed the military’s anti-democratic stance. It called for a return to the spirit of Pancasila and the 1945 Constitution, and for the scrapping of "Western" democracy. It blamed the "deplorable state of affairs" on the corruption and excesses of political parties. On the other hand, the IP-KI’s dismal electoral performance can be considered politically insignificant: it did not signify popular rejection of the milit-ary’s anti-democratic platform. One might suggest that rural voters, especially, tend to vote according to parochial or patrimonial considerations. The controversy over whether Third World electorates under-stand or appreciate democratic politics has raged on for decades. The pessimistic view, that Third World masses are easily misled and culturally incapable of appreciating political democracy, is dominant.

 

[44]  For a discussion of Sukarno’s manipulative relationship with successive prime ministers and cabin-ets, see Legge, Sukarno, pp. 273-276.

 

[45]  These were Simbolon (the North Sumatra Command), Warouw (East Indonesia), Kawilarang (the Siliwangi Division), Bachrum (Diponegoro), and Sudirman (Brawijaya). See Sundhaussen, The Road, p. 97.

 

[46]  On the opposition to Nasution’s "rationalization" plan, which led to the military-regional revolts, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, 32-33.

 

[47]  Ibid., pp. 104, 106.

 

[48]  They included Sjafruddin Prawiranegara ("Prime Minister" during the War of Independence), Mohammed Natsir (Prime Minister, 1950-1951), Burhanuddin Harahap (1955-1956), and Sumitro Djojohadijusumo (a veteran socialist).

 

[49]   There is a significant difference between a "secessionist government", and a "counter-government". Although regional dissatisfaction with Jakarta did exist, the main players were military opponents of Nasution, those dissatisfied with Sukarno, or both.  A regional component to the military revolts is also evident. The export-oriented Outer Islands were disadvantaged under Jakarta’s trade and foreign exchange regulations. This gave rise to the perception that Java was colonizing and milking the Outer Islands. On the other hand, the regulations resulted in lucrative, large-scale smuggling overseen by Div-isional commanders and senior officers in Sumatra, Sulawesi, Minahassa, and elsewhere. Suharto, allegedly, was among them. Since centralized trade regulations indirectly benefitted military officers, the grievances of the Outer islands per se probably were not core issues, at least for the soldier-rebels. For accounts and interpretations of “regional” revolts, see J.M. van der Kroef, "Instability in Indonesia", Far Eastern Economic Review (FEER), Vol. XXVI, No. 4 (April 1957), pp. 49-62; D.W. Fryer, "Economic Aspects of Indonesian Disunity", Pacific Affairs, Vol. XXX, No.3 (September 1957), pp. 195-208; John D. Legge, Central Authority and Regional Autonomy in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1961); Ruth McVey, "The Post-Revolutionary Transformation of the Indonesian Army", Indonesia 11 (April 1971), pp. 131-176 (Part 1), 147-181 (Part 2).

 

[50]  For an account of Nasution’s masterly handling of rebel officers, see Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 107-111. The PRRI apparently did not win over many military units, in particular the key Siliwangi Division. Also, neither side wished to fight to the end: they still faced strong rivals, including the politic-al parties (the re-emergent PKI especially) and the formidable Sukarno. Thus, Nasution adopted a flex-ible response. Negotiations were held with the rebels, and about 300 million Rupiah were freed up for Outer Islands reconstruction and the rehabilitation of ex-rebels. By June 1958, all rebel "capitals" on Sumatra, Sulawesi, and outlying areas had been captured. Thus the "regional" revolts by rather incom-petent soldier-rebels were effectively defused, although low-level guerrilla warfare continued in many areas until 1961. They continue in Aceh to this day.

 

[51]  Reeve, Golkar, pp. 112-113.

 

[52]  The 1945 Constitution, in force since 1959, was ratified in August 1945 after extensive debates over issues such as the family principle, people’s sovereignty, and group representation. However, a number of factors led to the 1945 Constitution being shelved. These included the need for external legitimacy and outside support, which the rejection of democracy and parliamentary politics would have damaged; the push by the political parties for a multi-party, parliamentary system; Hatta’s espousal of individual rights and rejection of the collectivism inherent in the family principle; and the rise of Sutan Sjahrir, who opposed the family principle with its authoritarian connotations. In November 1945, Sjahrir, as Prime Minister, proclaimed the adoption of a parliamentary, democratic system. This change, which amounted to a rejection of the 1945 Constitution, was meekly accepted by Sukarno. For details, see Reeve, Golkar, pp. 65-86.

 

[53]  Legge, Sukarno, p. 243.

 

[54]   This formulation was among the many "unifying" creeds proposed by Sukarno.  Another important emblem of Sukarnoism was Manipol/USDEK – the Political Manifesto.  It consists of the 1945 Constit-ution, Indonesian Socialism, Guided Democracy, the Guided Economy, and Indonesian Identity: togeth-er, USDEK.

 

[55]  Recall that in the 1950s and 1960s, Communism seemed to many leaders, intellectuals, and political activists to be an inexorable tide, or at least a viable alternative system. This was true in both the Third and First Worlds. 

 

[56]  Daniel S. Lev, "The Role of the Army in Indonesian Politics", Pacific Affairs, Vol. XXXVI, No. 4 (Winter 1963/ 64), pp. 349-364; also, Lev, The Transition to Guided Democracy, 1957-1959 (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesian Project, 1966), pp. 185. Nasution’s "Middle Way" was the basis of ABRI’s Dual Function doctrine, which has been used to justify the military intrusion into politics and the state.

 

[57]  One could say that Sukarno’s brand of personal rule approximates Jackson and Rosberg’s ideal type of the "prophetic ruler" – a visionary who is ideologically motivated to reshape society (pp. 79-80, 182 -186).  See Robert H. Jackson and Carl G. Rosberg, Personal Rule in Black Africa: Prince, Autocrat, Prophet, Tyrant (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), esp. pp. 77-78, 83-84, 143-145.

 

[58]  Legge, Sukarno, pp. 282-284. Sukarno also owed his success in implementing his Konsepsi agenda to the discrediting of leaders who could potentially challenge it, such as Hatta, Natsir, and Sumitro Djojohadijusumo, along with leaders of the Masjumi and PSI. All were implicated directly or indirectly in the regional revolts. See Feith, The Decline, pp. 588-589.

 

[59]   The story of the politics of constitutional changes is, like most things in Indonesia, complicated. The 1945 Constitution currently remains in force. It was restored in 1959-1960 by Sukarno, with Nasution’s support. Actually, it was adopted in August 1945, but was "shelved" by Sutan Sjahrir and political parties in November 1945. Sjahrir and Hatta installed a cabinet system responsible to "Parliament" (the KNIP). In 1949, a federal Constitution of the "United States of Indonesia" (the type favoured by the departing Dutch) was adopted. But it was replaced in 1950 by a provisional constitut-ion establishing a parliamentary form of governance. A Constituent Assembly (the Konstituante) was appointed in 1956 to draw up a more "permanent" constitution, but it was dismissed by Sukarno (with Nasution’s support) in 1959. Soon after, Sukarno decreed a return to the 1945 Constitution, which forms the basis of both the Guided Democracy state and the New Order.The best work so far on constitutional changes and arrangements is found in David Reeve, Golkar.  See also Nasution, The Aspiration for Constitutional Government..

 

[60]  By 1960, all the structures of the Guided Democracy state were in place: the Presidential Karya (Work) cabinet; the Supreme Advisory Council (DPA), composed of representatives of the parties along with regional and functional groups; the National Planning Council; a provisional Majelis Permusjawa-ratan Rakyat (People’s Consultative Assembly, MPRS); a gotong-royong Parliament (Dewan Perwa-kilan Rakyat gotong Royong, DPR); and a National Front. All positions to these bodies were filled by appointment rather than election. Legge, Sukarno, pp. 301-305, 312-314. See also Feith, The Decline p. 592.

 

[61]  After 1948, the ABRI was organized into Troop and Area Commands (KODAM).  Although the Siliwangi Division no longer existed from that point, the West Java Command was for some time still referred to by this appellation. Likewise, the Central and East Java commands were known as the Diponegoro and Brawijaya "Divisions". See David Jenkins, Suharto and his Generals: Indonesian Military Politics, 1975-1983 (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1984), p. 88 (n.#75).

 

[62]  Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 144-145.

 

[63]  On the Nasution-Yani rivalry and Sukarno’s manipulations, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 79-82. The fact that there were other more senior officers like Sungkono, Soeprajogi, and Suharto made Yani more dependent on Sukarno for legitimacy and authority within the military. As such, he was an ideal client and supporter. See Sundhaussen, The Road, p. 165.

 

[64]  Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 59, 69-75. The military supported the move against Malaysia as a means to shore up its political-administrative role and circumvent a planned budget cut. It even hoped for a return to martial law. Later, it had second thoughts and did what it could to obstruct the Air Force Chief, Omar Dhani, who held overall command. As Yani instructed, intelligence men such as Ali Murtopo and Benny Murdani established clandestine contacts with Malaysian leaders. According to Murdani, though, the initiative came from Suharto, with Yani’s blessings. See Julius Pour (trans. by Tim Scott), Benny Moerdani: Profile of a Soldier Statesman (Jakarta: Yayasan Kejuangan Panglima Besar Sudirman, 1993), p. 270.

 

[65]  See Abdul Haris Nasution, Fundamentals of Guerilla Warfare (New York: Praeger, 1965); also Guy Pauker, The Indonesian Doctrine of Territorial Warfare and Territorial Management (Rand Memorandum, 1963).

 

[66]  For analyses of the military’s position in the Guided Democracy state, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 34-42, 45-51; and Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 152-153, 168, 173-175.

 

[67]  Suryadinata, Military Ascendancy, pp. 5-7.

 

[68]  Reeve, Golkar, p. 269.

 

[69]  They included the armed forces’ in-house organizations, a host of labor and civil servant unions (including SOKSI), and bodies representing students, intellectuals, women, the mass media, fishermen, farmers, etc. For a general overview of the multitude of bodies that composed these military-sponsored groups, see Suryadinata,  Military Ascendancy, pp. 163-174 (Appendix G). The military also formed two other fronts, KOSGORO (Cooperatives for Mutual Assistance Efforts) and MKGR (the Family Mutual Help Association). The fronts also ran economic enterprises; like SOKSI, they were linked to and supported by the Ministry of Defence and Security (HANKAM). See Suryadinata, Military Ascen-dancy, pp. 10-15.

 

[70]  For an analysis of the politics of "mass" organizations (ormas) and "fronts" involving the military, the PKI, political parties, and above all Sukarno himself, see Reeve, Golkar, pp. 208-262 (Ch.5).

 

[71]   Ibid., pp. 87-94.

 

[72]  Reeve, Golkar, pp. 194-197; Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 526-7, 584; McVey, “The Post-Revolut-ionary,” pp. 131, 151, 176 (Part 1), and 148, 152 (Part 2).

 

[73]  Crouch, The Army and Politics, p. 95..   

 

[74]  Ibid, pp. 94-95.

 

[75]   Rex Mortimer argues that the PKI’s position was weakened by the absence of pronounced class cleavages (and thus class awareness) in Indonesia. The PKI thus opted for an alliance with Sukarno, a self-professed Marxist, to gain strategic footholds in the state and governmental machinery, including ABRI. See Rex Mortimer, "Class, Social Cleavage, and Indonesian Communism", in Benedict Anders-on and Audrey Kahin, eds., Interpreting Indonesian Politics: Thirteen Contributions to the Debate (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1982), pp.54-68. For the PKI’s attempt to infiltrate the mil-itary, which met with some success in the Air Force and to a degree the Army, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 82-86.

 

[76]  A typical position on the Sukarno-PKI relationship is Legge’s, in Sukarno, pp. 231, 254, 307, 324, 327, 353, 378-79, 381, 383, 384; Donald Hindley, "President Sukarno and the Communists: The Polit-ics of Domestication", American Political Science Review, Vol. LVI, No. 4 (December 1962), pp. 915-926; and Ewa T. Pauker, "Has the Sukarno Regime Weakened the PKI?",  Asian Survey, Vol.IV, No.9 (September 1964), pp. 1058-1070. For additional analyses of the Sukarno-PKI relationship, see Arnold C. Brackman, The Communist Collapse in Indonesia (New York: Norton, 1967); J.M. van der Kroef, The Communist Party of Indonesia (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1965).

 

[77]  Sukarno’s committment to Nasakom (Nationalism, Religion, Communism), his promotion of "revol-utionary" forces, his anti-West stance, the invitation he issued to Khrushchev, and his frequent consult-ation with Mao and other Chinese leaders, all serve as  good indications of his Marxist orientation. Even though his Marxist slogans can be interpreted as tactics of self-promotion, it is possible that he may genuinely have been committed to a PKI-led revolution, one aimed at "end[ing] the centuries of oppress-ion". This, anyway, is Brian May’s thesis, in The Indonesian Tragedy (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978), pp. 86-89. Feith also argues that Sukarno, like Cuba’s Castro, might have been moving towards a Marxist state with the PKI in control and Indonesia in a position of dependence on the comm-unist bloc. See Feith, "President Sukarno, the Army and the Communists: The Triangle Changes Shape", Asian Survey, Vol.IV, No.8 (August 1964), pp. 968-980. Most Indonesianists, however, take the conventional view that Sukarno manipulated both the military and the PKI in order to maintain his grip on power.

 

[78]  On the Democratic League, see Herbert Feith, "The Dynamics of Guided Democracy", in Ruth McVey, ed., Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1963), pp. 343-344; Rex Mortimer, Indones-ian Communism under Sukarno: Ideology and Politics 1959-1965 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1974), p. 112; Roeslan Abdulgani, Nationalism, Revolution and Guided Democracy (Perth: Monash University Center for Southeast Asian Studies, 1973), p. 48; Reeve, Golkar, pp. 164-165.

 

[79]  For an account of the exceedingly slow implementation of the land reform laws and the PKI-led unilateral peasant actions, see Mortimer, Indonesian Communism, pp. 204, 284-91, 309-28.

 

[80]  Crouch, The Army and Politics, p. 93. See also Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 192-194.

 

[81]   Sukarno made this accusation, which was probably unsubstantiated, at a meeting of army comm-anders, 28 May 1965.  See May, The Indonesian Tragedy, pp. 125-128. With regard to the “Council of Generals,” Crouch’s view that it was based on "political intuition rather than hard evidence", which seems essentially correct (The Army and Politics, pp. 106-107).

 

[82]  For a comprehensive analysis of the Gestapu Affair, see Ulf Sundhaussen, Golkar, esp. pp. 192-207; also Crouch, The Army and Politics, esp. pp. 107-134.  Other sources include Ruth McVey and Benedict Anderson, A Preliminary Analysis of the October 1, 1965 Coup in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell Modern Indonesia Project, 1971); W.F. Wertheim, "Indonesia Before and After the Untung Coup", Pacific Affairs, Vol. XXXIX, No.1-2 (Spring/Summer 1966), pp. 115-127; and Daniel S. Lev, “Indo-nesia 1965: The Year of the Coup”, Asian Survey, Vol.VI, No.1 (February 1966), pp. 103-110.

 

[83]  Suharto once commanded the Diponegoro Division, and had personal and professional ties with Untung and other "Young Turk" radicals. Hence Wertheim’s speculations as to Suharto’s possible involvement cannot be lightly dismissed. See Wertheim, "Suharto and the Untung Coup: The Missing Link", Journal of Contemporary Asia, Vol. 1, No.1 (1970), pp. 50-57, and "Whose Plot?  New Light on the 1965 Events", Journal of Contemporary Asia, Vol. 9, No. 2 (1979), pp. 197-215. Crouch’s view is that the coup plotters might have seen Suharto as a potential friend, though he does not enter into why this might have been so. See Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 123-125.

 

[84]  Sundhaussen, The Road, p. 197.

 

[85]  The real story may not be known for quite some time, given the opacity of politics in authoritarian states, and the attitude of all states as far as sensitive information is concerned. For analyses and inter-pretations of Gestapu, see Anderson and McVey, A Preliminary Analysis; Legge, Sukarno, pp. 386-96; Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 196-207; Lev, "Indonesia in 1965"; Crouch, "Another Look at the Indo-nesian Coup", Indonesia 15 (April 1973), pp. 1-20; J.M. van der Kroef, "Interpretations of the 1965 Indonesian Coup: A Review of the Literature", Pacific Affairs, Vol. XLIII, No.4 (Winter 1970-71), pp. 557-577;  John Hughes, The End of Sukarno (London: Angus and Robertson,1968); Tarzie Vittachi, The Fall of Sukarno (New York: Deutsch, 1967); Arnold C.Brackman, The Communist Collapse in Indonesia (New York: Norton, 1967); and Jerome R. Bass, "The PKI and the Attempted Coup", Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, Vol. I, No. 1 (March 1970), pp. 96-105.

 

[86]  This is based on the plotters’ "confessions", and no doubt is tainted with the self-interest of both those charged and their accusers. See Nugroho Notosusanto and Ismail Saleh, The Coup Attempt of the “September 30 Movement” in Indonesia (Jakarta: Pembimbing Masa, 1968). According to Crouch, the PKI was "completely unprepared [and] offered almost no resistance" when inflamed mobs and Muslim militias attacked it (The Army and Politics, p. 155). This casts real doubt on the depiction of Gestapu as a PKI masterplan for succession and the elimination of the military. It could, instead, have been an unforeseen turn of events resulting from the impatient radicalism of Untung and Diponegoro and Brawi-jaya "Young Turks"; miscalulations by some PKI cadres; and perhaps a flawed assessment of the balance of forces by the ambitious Air Force Chief, Omar Dhani. The pros and cons of the PKI involvement are discussed in detail in Bass, "The PKI".  

 

[87]  See Wertheim, "Suharto and the Untung Coup", p. 52. 

 

[88]  Actually, the coup group commanded a substantial force: at least one unit of the Presidential Guards, five battalions from Diponegoro, one from Brawijaya, the Air Force and its ground troops, and the PKI militias, including a women's detachment (Sundhaussen, The Road, pp. 196, 215). Had the coup forces been less inept and more willing to fight it out, they might have succeeded. The failure of this and earlier coups (including the botched coup in November 1956 directed at Nasution, and the "regional" revolts of 1958-1959) indicates the poor coup-staging skills of ABRI officers. This may partly account for Suharto’s long grip on power, a point Michael Vatikiotis notes astutely: see his Indonesian Politics Under Suharto (London: Routledge, 1993), p. 19.

 

[89]  According to a government report from 1978, 13 years after Gestapu, Sukarno went to Halim as part of a "pre-arranged plan to disperse the national leadership in the event of trouble". He may not have known that the base was the coup headquarters. See Hamish McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia (Honolu-lu: University Press, 1980), pp. 46-47.

 

[90]  Hughes, The End , pp. 159-60, 175; Amnesty International, Indonesia: An Amnesty International Report (London, 1977); Julie Southwood and Patrick Flanagan, Indonesia: Law, Propaganda and Terror (London: Zed Press, 1983), pp. 77-78.

 

[91]  Hughes, The End, pp. 142, 181; May, The Indonesian Tragedy, p. 122.

 

[92]  The former figure was the one cited in the first official report submitted to Sukarno before he was deposed in February 1966. According to Crouch, Admiral Sudomo estimated the number of those killed at about 500,000. In addition, 200,000 were arrested throughout Indonesia. See Crouch, The Army and Politics, p. 155; also Southwood and Flanagan, Indonesia, p. 72, Amnesty International, Indonesia,; and Hughes, The End, pp. 185-6.

 

[93]   Among the victims were many ethnic Chinese, resented for their economic influence. But according  to Schwarz, the Chinese were not the primary victims, since many of them had been forced to leave the rural areas from 1959 onwards after a law was introduced prohibiting them from operating rural retail stores. In 1960, over 130,000 Chinese returned to China. Schwarz contends that anti-Chinese violence in Jakarta was relatively minor.  See Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 105-106.

 

[94]  Southwood and Flanagan, Indonesia, p. 79. The authors divide post-1965 Indonesian society into three groups: the Dominators (Suharto groups); the Collaborators (state functionaries, soldiers and officers, parliamentarians, journalists, lawyers, students, etc.), some of whom could be termed "Critical Collaborators"; and the Victims (those labelled "enemies and subversives" by the Dominators – the Chinese minority and the poor, depoliticized majority) (pp. 52-63).

 

[95]  For details of Sukarno’s comeback attempt, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 158-178.

 

[96]  The MPRS rejected Sukarno’s explanation, which was that Gestapu stemmed from the blunders of PKI leaders, the cunning of Nekolim forces, and individuals who were "nuts". Legge, Sukarno, p. 407.  Untung and his Diponegoro radicals were certainly that -- they shot from the hip and ignored the very person who had the means to thwart them, Suharto.

 

[97]  Crouch, The Army and Politics, p. 79. Yani's personal relationship with Sukarno was warm. He treated Sukarno like a sultan who could not be forced out of power, and preferred to keep close to Sukarno and thus influence him, and counter the PKI's influence with Sukarno. 

 

[98]  For a discussion of the 1945 Constitution, see Reeve, Golkar, pp. 69-74.  It is important to note that Sukarno was not directly deposed by Suharto, as U Nu had been in Burma by Ne Win, and Pibul in Thailand by Sarit.

 

[99]  The People’s Consultative Congress (MPR), which meets every five years, is composed of 1000 members, drawn from the DPR and regional DPRs, with some appointed members. Of the 500 DPR members, 100 are appointed by the President, with 75 seats reserved for ABRI. The DPR meets several times a year to approve government-initiated legislation. See Douglas E. Ramage, Politics in Indonesia: Democracy, Islam and the Ideology of Tolerance (London: Routledge, 1995), p. 211 (fn.73).

 

[100]  Sukarno was responsible not only for reviving the 1945 Constitution (which Hatta and Sjahrir had bypassed in 1950), but for the "discovery" of Pancasila.  See Harold Crouch, "Introduction" (to Part II: State Control), in Arief Budiman, ed., State and Civil Society in Indonesia (Clayton: Monash Papers on Southeast Asia, 1988), pp. 115-120.  See also Schwarz, A Nation, p. 10.

 

[101]  Carl J. Friedrich and Zbigniew K. Brzezinski, Totalitarian Dictatorship and Autocracy (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1965), p.13.

 

[102]  The passages concerning the military’s position in Golkar are based on Suryadinata, Military Ascendancy, pp. 19-28, 43-61, 125-132.  See also Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 48-50.

 

[103]  David Reeve, "The Corporatist State: The Case of Golkar", in Arief Budiman, ed., State and Civil Society, pp. 164, 168 (and 151 -176).

 

[104]  See John McBeth, "Party Patron: Suharto’s Party Picks First Civilian Leader", FEER (4 Novem-ber 1993), p. 14.

 

[105]  Schwarz, A Nation, p. 275. 

 

[106]  For an excellent journalistic study of the PRI and its role in arranging a smooth transfer of power from one personal ruler to the next, see Alan Riding, Distant Neighbors: A Portrait of the Mexicans (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1985), esp. pp. 66-75. A limitation on presidential tenure (to one term in the Mexican case) seems crucial to the smooth transfer of personal power in a one-party presidential system.

 

[107]  Source: Notes from talks with a well-known scholar and many businessmen, Jakarta, 1993.  Informed speculation is that Suharto wants someone, like Habibie, who is close to his children to be the next President. However almost all those interviewed agreed that Habibie’s dominance is not assured, because it depends so heavily on Suharto’s favour. Habibie has been compared to Subandrio, Sukarno’s protégé, who served as the leader’s link to the PKI. Likewise, Habibie serves as Suharto’s link to a pol-itical Islamic segment which soldiers regard as hostile to them. 

 

[108]  See Allan Samson, "Indonesia 1972: The Solidification of Military Control", Asian Survey, Vol. XIII, No. 2 (February 1973), pp. 127-139.

 

[109]  The People’s Consultative Congress (MPR) meets every five years. It also "elects" the President (and head of state). See Ramage, Politics in Indonesia, p. 211 (fn.73).

 

[110]  Juan Linz, "Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes", in Fred I. Greenstein and Nelson W. Polsby, eds., Handbook of Political Science: Macropolitical Theory, Vol.3 (London: Addison-Wesley Publish-ing Company, 1975), pp.265-66.

 

[111]  It should be recalled, however, that Sukarno had already disposed of or "tamed" all the political parties other than the PKI during the "Guided Democracy" years. Suharto moved to emasculate the already weakened political parties by "restructuring or simplifying" them through the Political Parties and Golkar Bill (1974), the Election Law Amendments Bill (1979), the Presidential Decision No. 3 /1982 (on electoral campaigns), and five other bills passed in 1984: the Amendments of the Election Law Bill, the DPR/ MPR Bill, the Political Parties and Golkar Amendment Bill, the Referendum Bill, and the Mass Organization Bill. See Suryadinata, Military Ascendency, pp. 69-73, 92-94, 101-107, and May, The Indonesian Tragedy, pp. 249-264, 281-288.  See also Donald Hindley, "Indonesia 1971: Pantjasila Democracy and the Second Parliamentary Elections", Asian Survey, Vol. XII, No. 1 (January 1972), pp. 56-68; R.William Liddle, "The 1977 Indonesian Elections and the New Order Legitimacy", Southeast Asian Affairs (1978), pp. 175-185; and Benedict Anderson, "The Last Days of Indonesia’s Suharto?", Southeast Asian Chronicle 63 (July-August, 1973), pp. 2-17.

 

[112]  Regarding civil servants, in addition to having to join KORPI, theirs wives are compelled to join Dharma Wanita, the official women’s body, always headed by the wives of senior officers. See Jamie Mackie and Andrew MacIntyre, "Politics", in Hal Hill, ed., Indonesia’s New Order: The Dynamics of Socio-Economic Transformation (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994), pp. 1-53 (esp. p. 27).

 

[113]  In fairness, it must be said that over time, a few ministries – finance, home, and industry – have grown more professional, thanks to the efforts of dedicated technocrats. See Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", p. 21. On the other hand, the customs service was so corrupt and unprofessional that it was deemed beyond reform; in 1985 it was placed under the supervision of a Swiss inspection agency for a time.

 

[114]  See John A. McDougall, "Patterns of Military Control in the Indonesian Higher Central Bureau-cracy", Indonesia 33 (April 1982), pp. 89-121. In a polity where the military is dominant, the question of whether or not soldiers actually occupy posts in ministries and the civil administration is not terribly relevant. It is also misleading to argue that, because the military presence in the administrative sphere has decreased, the administrative machinery is increasingly independent of the military.

 

[115]  In 1988, Benny Murdani was "retired" as head of KOPKAMTIB, and the agency was dissolved.  It was replaced by BAKORSTANAS (the Agency for Coordination for Support of National Stability), which was directly responsible to Suharto.  See Pour, Benny, pp. 419-420.

 

[116]  Repression may have increased recently (1996) due to a resurgence of labour militancy, along with regime fears of the growing popularity of Megawati Sukarnoputri’s democratization message among some subordinated segments. Incidentally, it is intriguing that most of the acknowledged champions of democracy in Southeast Asia are women -- Cory Aquino, Aung San Suukyi, and Megawati.

 

[117]   On the recent situation in East Timor, see Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 194-229, 233-234, and 246-249 (on repression and intimidation in other parts of Indonesia, including Aceh).

 

[118]  Ibid., pp. 238-247 ("The Press: More Responsible than Free").

 

[119]  An insightful account of regime-press relations is given in Nono Anwar Makarim, The Indonesian Press: An Editor’s Perspective (Cambridge: Center for International Studies, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1974).  See also Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 107-108; Southwood and Flanagan, Indonesia, pp. 84-89.

 

[120]  Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", pp. 23-24.

 

[121]  A theoretical discussion of the military and state elites’ commercialization of positions and power is found in Olle Tornquist, "Rent Capitalism, State, and Democracy: A Theoretical Proposition", in Budiman, ed., State and Civil Society, pp. 29-49.  See also McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia, pp. 116-119. For an excellent account of military involvement in business, state enterprises, "welfare foundat-ions", and the general corruption, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 272-303.

 

[122]  Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, p. 50; also pp. 4-5, 14-15, 43-45, 50-51, 152-154.  Schwarz gives Suharto’s total family fortune as US$30 billion (A Nation, p. 144).  For further accounts of Suharto’s business interests, see Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 71, 76-77, 166, 169, 177-178.  On the Suharto-cukong connection, see May, Indonesian Tragedy, pp. 219-228.  

 

[123]  On Ibnu Sutowo, head of Pertamina (the National Oil and Gas Mining Agency), see McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia, pp. 143-165, and May, Indonesian Tragedy, pp. 215-219. Even critics of Suharto like Sukendro, Jasin, and Dharsono, grew dependent on government linkages. As punishment for critic-izing the regime and Suharto, they had permits and credit lines withdrawn and were blacklisted from government contracts. See Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 70-72, 183-184.

 

[124]  See Crouch, The Army and Politics, p. 355. An important player like Sutowo's aide Haji Thahir had $80 million in personal accounts in Singapore alone when he died. On the Thahir scandal and Mur-dani’s attempt to recover the money, see Pour, Benny, pp. 433-448.

 

[125]  Schwarz, A Nation, p. 16.

 

[126]  The figures for civil servants are from 1991-1992, cited in Vatikiotis (Indonesian Politics, p. 51).

 

[127]  Hal Hill and Jamie Mackie, "Introduction", in Hal Hill, ed., Indonesia’s, pp. xxii-xxxv, and also communications received from Chris Dagg, Simon Fraser University. On the Dharma Wanita and P4 indoctrination, see Julia I. Suryakusuma, "State Ibuism: The Social Construction of Womanhood in the Indonesian New Order", Nav, Vol.6:2, June 1991, pp. 45-71. In many Third World countries, civil servants – even university professors, public school teachers – wear military-style uniforms, badges, insignias of rank, etc. There is a conscious and sustained effort among Third World states to create a distance between state officials and the general population, in order to impress the former’s superior status upon the latter.

 

[128]  I refer here to, for example, tensions between Suharto and ABRI; between ABRI and civil or Golkar bureaucrats; and among bureaucratic cliques, Golkar factions, presidential cliques, and military fact-ions.

 

[129]  See Andrew MacIntyre, Business and Politics in Indonesia (Sydney, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 1991). 

 

[130]  Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", pp. 6-7, 14. See also Karl Jackson, "The Prospects for Bureau-cratic Polity in Indonesia", in Lucien Pye and Karl Jackson, eds., Political Power and Communications (Berkeley: University Press,1978); Harold Crouch, "Patrimonialism and Military Rule in Indonesia", World Politics 31, 4: 571-87; Herbert Feith, "Repressive-Developmentalist Regimes in Asia: Old Strengths, New Vulnerabilities", Prisma 19 (1980), pp. 39-55; Dwight King, "Is the New Order a Bur-eaucratic Polity, a Neopatrimonial Regime, or a Bureaucratic-Authoritarian Regime?  What Difference Does it Make?", and Ruth McVey, "The Beamtenstaat in Indonesia", in Interpreting, pp. 104-116 and 84-91, respectively.

 

[131]  Suharto figured prominently in the famous "general attack" on Jogjakarta in 1949.  In 1957-1959, he commanded the Diponegoro Division in Central Java; in 1960, he was First Deputy (Intelligence) to the Army Chief of Staff and commander of KOSTRAD (this was a move by Nasution to counter Yani).  He headed the Anti-Dutch "Mandala" command that captured West Irian in 1962. And in 1965, while still in command of KOSTRAD, Yani appointed him deputy to Omar Dhani at the Anti-Malaysia "Alert Command" – an attempt to sabotage the campaign. Thus he cannot be considered a nonentity, but he was consistently underestimated by his seniors and contemporaries, and even by his juniors – for example, Untung and his Brawijaya "radicals" in 1965 (if he was not somehow linked to them). By contrast, Nasution, who was generally highly rated before 1965, was constantly outflanked by Sukarno and easily shoved aside by Suharto.

 

[132]  The forces that emerged included New Order "radicals" – army officers, intellectuals and techno-crats, sectors of students – who wanted a clean break with the recent past. They were not a homogen-eous grouping: some wanted a restoration of parliamentary rule, while others desired a more disciplined, corruption-free order under the leadership of "no-nonsense", modernizing soldiers. Others included Islamic forces which wanted to "drown the PKI in a sea of blood", and aspired to introducing a more Islamic society and state.

 

[133]  MacIntyre, Business and Politics, p. 32. 

 

[134]  As two respected Indonesianists have noted, neither the DPR nor the MPR has the capacity to constrain the president, the bureaucracy, or the military. See Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", pp. 19-20. Also, Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, p. 105; Schwarz, A Nation, p. 272. 

 

[135]  MacIntyre, Business and Politics, pp. 33-35. Also, see John McBeth, "Loyal House: But Parliament is Becoming More Animated", Far Eastern Economic Review (FEER) (8 September 1994), pp. 32-35. 

 

[136]   See Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 20-24. The most prominent Suharto loyalists were Generals Ali Murtopo, Ibnu Sutowo, Benny Murdani, Sudharmono, Sumitro, Yoga Sugama, Sudjono Humardhani, Mohamm-ad Jusuf, Amir Machmud, Marden Panggabean, Darjatmo, Bustanil Arifin, Sutopo Juwono, and Alams-jah, along with Admiral Sudomo. Members of the "inner core group" were Ali Murtopo, Sudomo, Humardhani, Alamsjah, Yoga Sugama, Ibnu Sutowo, and Benny Murdani. 

 

[137]  For details, see Ibid., pp. 20-30. 

 

[138]  Nasution seems to have been quite severely traumatized by his daughter’s death and his harrowing narrow escape in Gestapu. This could explain his unassertive behavior in the early years of  the New Order. Based on an interview with a foreign “consultant” close to Nasution, Jakarta, June 1993.

 

[139]  It was relatively easy for Suharto to impose his personal stamp on the military because of the power vacuum created by the deaths of Yani and other generals. Another key factor was Nasution’s lack of ambition and, perhaps, ingrained professionalism. Suharto obviously understood the military mind. Contrary to the layman’s view that it is dangerous to dismiss general officers, this often proves to be untrue, mainly because such figures tend to lose their air of authority quite soon without a swagger stick to wield. The secret to the longevity of a military strongman is that he understands and skilfully exploits factionalism in the military. 

 

[140]  These included Hugeng, Ishak Djuarsa, Jasin, Sumitro (a "palace general"), Sutopo Juwono, Sajidiman, and Widodo. Later, Ibnu Sutowo and Benny Murdani (the most powerful man after Suharto) were removed. Sutowo was dropped on account of the mess he made of Pertamina, the oil monopoly. Murdani was abruptly removed as ABRI Commander and pushed upstairs to the defence ministry in 1988. He was replaced by Try Sutrisno, a former military adjudant to Suharto, and was also retired from KOPKAMTIB. The latter was replaced by a new agency headed by Try. This may have been a routine step, as Pour insists (Benny, p. 413); but it certainly stripped Murdani of the extraordinary power he had held for fifteen years.

 

[141]  Suharto’s strategy for keeping key military players in check was more sophisticated than that of Ne Win, who sacked anyone who in his view had gained excessive power or importance. See Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 20-27, 134-156, for a fuller treatment of Suharto’s "divide-and-rule" approach to loyal generals and aides. Jenkins’ work is based on extensive interviews with Nasution and disenchanted former generals, and is surely one of the best sources available on the politics of politicized military.

 

[142]  Inkopad is the army’s cooperative body, Berdikari the army’s trading firm, and Perhutani the forest-ry corporation. The proportion of soldiers in the state apparatus has varied over the years. Early on, they predominated, but at present less so. Nonetheless, apart from Suharto, there is no other force within the state that dares to offend ABRI in any way. Given the fact that ABRI  is, after Suharto, the most powerful force, the number of governmental posts held by soldiers seems rather irrelevant. Comp-ared to Thailand, soldiers are more prominent in Indonesian governmental agencies, but less so than in Burma. It would be misleading to assess the military’s dominance in Third World states (so long as they are ruled by a military strongman) simply, or solely, by tallying the number of bureaucratic-administrat-ive posts held by soldiers. 

 

[143]  For an overview of the economic and commercial partnership between Chinese entrepreneur-financiers and ABRI/Suharto, often in ventures tainted by corruption, see McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia, pp. 118-124; and May, The Indonesia Tragedy, pp. 215-234 (Ch.7, "Corruption and Beyond").  On corruption, see Jamie Mackie, "The Report of the Commission of Four on Corruption", Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies, Vol. VI, No. 3 (November 1970), pp. 87-101.

 

[144]  Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 34-35.

 

[145]  Other distinguished ex-generals who joined Nasution were Djatikusumo, Sudirman, Mohammed Jasin, and Subiyono from the Brawijaya "Division"; Iskandar Ranuwihardjo, Munadi, and Broto Hamidjojo from the Diponegoro Division; Mokoginta, Sugih Arto, Sukendro, Daan Jahja, and Alex Kawilarang (Siliwangi Division); Hugeng, an army general and ex-police chief; Ali Sadikin of the Marine Corps, and ex-Governor of Jakarta; and Admiral Nazir.  See Jenkins, Suharto.

 

[146]  These included Sjafruddin Prawiranegara (Prime Minister during the "war of independence", who later joined the "regional revolts"), Natsir, and Burhanuddin Harahap (Prime Ministers under Sukarno; they too joined the "regional revolts"); Sunario (former foreign minister); and Slamet Bratanata (former minister of mines).  Others were Nuddin Lubic, head of the PPP faction in the DPR; Sanusi Hardja-dinata, general chairman of the PDI); and Mochtar Lubis, a prominent editor and writer.  

 

[147]  Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 66-72, 77-84, 90-112.  See also Ulf Sundhaussen, "Regime Crisis in Indones-ia: Facts, Fiction, Prediction", Asian Survey, Vol. XXI (August 1981), pp. 815-837; and Leo Surya-dinata, "Indonesia Under the New Order: Problems of Growth, Equity, and Stability", in Leo Surya-dinata and Sharon Saddique, eds., Trends in Indonesia II (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1981), pp. 3-51. 

 

[148]  The accusers were Generals Hugeng and Jasin, who had been dismissed because of their knowledge of corruption in the palace. See Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 164-167, 174-182, 243 -245; and McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia, pp. 126, 235 (on General Hugeng’s knowledge of Madame Suharto’s corrupt deals).

 

[149]  See David Jenkins, "Adam’s Heavenly Warning", FEER (29 June 1979), pp. 30-31. 

 

[150]  The figures named -- Adam Malik, Generals Alamsjah, Jusuf, and Widodo -- were, respectively, the Vice President; the Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Advisory body (DPA); the Defence Minister and ABRI chief; and the Army Chief of Staff.  Jenkins, Suharto,  pp. 113-125. 

 

[151]  Jenkins, Suharto, pp.157-158. The threat was made by Suharto in a speech at Pekanbaru in March 1980.    

 

[152]  Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 82-83.

 

[153]  Ibid., pp. 84-87 (ABRI's dislike of, and opposition to Sudharmono). Also see, Ramage, Politics in Indonesia, p. 178.

 

[154]  Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 285-286. As Schwarz notes, Try Sutrisno was probably Suharto’s choice anyway. ABRI’s announcement pre-empting Suharto’s seems to have been an attempt to assert its independence. This is Suhaini Aznam’s contention in "The Guessing Game", FEER (4 March 1993), p. 19. 

 

[155]  Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 82-83.  See also Schwarz, A Nation, p. 283; and Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", pp. 8, 16, 18.

 

[156]  Ramage provides a detailed discussion of the complex, multi-layered political manoeuvres in 1990 involving Suharto, ABRI, and rival Islamic segments. The Islamic stream is divided into Muslim "intellectuals" of the ICMI, led by Habibie and "legitimized" by Suharto; the followers of Wahid (the NU leader, a "neo-modernist" who is close to Murdani; and those who support Madjid (a democratic "neo-modernist"). The latter two and ABRI are suspicious of ICMI and Habibie, but ABRI is also wary of the neo-modernists who favour democratization. For an excellent and thoughtful discussion of the Suharto-ABRI-Islam equation (or the Pancasila-Democracy-Islam triangle), see Ramage, Politics in Indonesia.

 

[157]  Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 162-193 (Ch. 7, "Islam Coming in from the Cold?"). Schwarz’s view is that by supporting the ICMI (led by his protégé, Habibie), Suharto has encouraged "modernist Islamic elements" who are anti-military.  Meanwhile, Suharto has alienated "neo-modernist" elements led by Abdurrahman Wahid and Nurcholish Madjid, who have better relations with the military (or at least with Benny Murdani, who is privately critical of Suharto). Habibie’s strength is that he is close to Suharto. This is also his liability. Source: Notes from confidential interviews in Jakarta, June 1993, with a retired general close to Murdani, a prominent academic at a research institute, and several foreign businessmen. 

 

[158]  Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 132-133, 159-160.  See also John McBeth, "The Muslim Ticket: Suharto Courts Islamic Intellectuals", FEER (20 December 1990), pp. 32-34. 

 

[159]  John McBeth, "Succession Talk Recedes: Suharto Could Lead into the 21st Century", FEER (18 May 1995), pp. 48-52. 

 

[160]  Ibid.,The extent of Suharto’s hold on the military can be seen from the fact that the ABRI chief of staff, Soeyono, was a presidential adjutant in the late 1980s, as was Wiranto, the Jakarta region comm-ander. The commander of Kopassus, Subagio Hari Siswojo, headed the President’s security unit for four years. 

 

[161]  Ibid.  On Raden Hartono and his close relation with Habibie and Tutut (Suharto’s daughter), see Ajay Singh and Keith Loveard, "A Successor in Waiting?", Asiaweek, 5 April 1996, p. 44. 

 

[162]  See Robert H.Jackson and Carl G.Rosberg, Personal Rule in Black Africa: Prince, Autocrat, Prophet, Tyrant (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), pp. 77-79.    

 

[163]  R.William Liddle, "Regime in Crisis?: Presidential Succession, the East Timor Massacre, and Prospects for Democratization in Indonesia", The 44th Annual Meeting of the Association of Asian Studies, Washington, D.C., 2-5 April 1992, pp. 13, 14, 25.

 

[164]  The international community and international bodies like the United Nations tend to ignore the fact that the public-private distinction is non-existent in most Third World states. Thus those Third World rulers who pursue private gains and personal power are able to present themselves as leaders exercising power for the "public" good and in the "national" interest. This is not to say that no public good is ever served, but it tends to be both minimal and incidental. 

 

[165]  Liddle, "Regime in Crisis?",  p. 15. 

 

[166]  Ibid., p. 18.

 

[167]  As Mackie and MacIntyre put it, the regime has become a "self-perpetuating patronage system from top to bottom, rewarding those who [are] in it and penalizing all those who are excluded". It will hence be difficult for reform movements to "open [the system] up in more democratic or pluralist directions". Mackie and MacIntyre, "Politics", p. 45.

 

[168]  Jenkins, Suharto, pp.13-14.  A concise exposition of Suharto’s personal dominance is "In Suharto’s Shadow", The Economist, 9 May 1992, pp. 33-34. There is a temptation to downplay the personalistic nature of Suharto’s rule due to his low-key style. The existence in the New Order of bureaucratic "empires" (Habibie’s, for example), power centers (ABRI and Golkar), political parties (the PPP and PDI), and legislative-representative assemblies gives the impression that power is quite widely diffused.  But it is misleading to portray a personal dictatorship as a system devoid of other centers of power and influence, especially in the state sphere.

 

[169]  This is also the conclusion Sundhaussen reaches in "Indonesia: Past and Present Encounters With Democracy", in L. Diamond, J. Linz, and S.M. Lipset, eds., Democracy in Developing Countries: Asia (3) (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1985), pp. 423-474. 

 

[170]  See J. Soedjati Djiwandono, "Indonesia in 1994", Asian Survey, Vol. XXXV, No. 2 (February 1995), pp. 226-233.

 

[171]  Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, p. 85. Although Try Sutrisno, the current vice-president, is an ABRI man, he does not hold an active ABRI post. The background and status of the previous vice-president, Sudharmono, were similar. Earlier vice-presidents were civilians: the Sultan of Jogjakarta 1973-78 and Adam Malik 1979-1988. As for Golkar, all its chairmen have been loyal "political gener-als": Sokowati, Amir Murtopo (two terms), Sudharmono (who rose to the vice-presidency in 1988), and Wahano. The present Golkar head is Harmoko, a civilian who is regarded with suspicion by ABRI, and widely viewed as building a civilian "empire" within Golkar.  

 

[172]  Tales of the economic-commercial activities of Suharto’s children and their in-laws, clients, and cronies are heard everywhere in Jakarta. They regularly cropped up in conversations with both local and expatriate businessmen. They have also been widely researched. See Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 75 (on the children’s debts to Bank Suma); pp. 133-134 (on Tommy’s soybean monopoly); pp. 141-142 (on Bambang and Sigit’s involvement in the Bimantara Group, worth US$1.4 billion); pp. 142-43 (dealing with the role of Tutut and her two sisters in the Citra Lamtoro Gung Group); p. 143 (on Tommy and Sigit); pp. 143-144 (on Suharto’s half-brother Probosutedjo and cousin Sudwikatmono); pp. 144-145 and 147-153 (discussing Suharto and his various cronies); and pp. 153-157 (on Tommy and his cloves monopoly).

 

[173]  These views are commonly expressed in Jakarta. Source: notes from interviews with a well-known Islamic scholar and activist; a renowned Indonesian academic, consultant, and entrepreneur; young academics in Jakarta and Singapore; an American consultant with links to U.S. diplomatic circles; and several journalists (two British, an American, and an European), all in Jakarta in June 1993. 

 

[174]  There have certainly been structural changes in the economy, as evident from new industries and the rise in production (which has grown several hundred percent since 1966). However, the question of who has benefitted most is a matter of considerable debate. Anwar Nasution stated (in 1991) that those living below the official poverty line have fallen from 40 percent in 1976 to 20 in 1987. He contends that real wage may have declined due to high inflation and wage freezes. The real-estate boom has either driven the poor out of the cities or concentrated them in overcrowded slums. Existing regulations and new deregulation measures have benefitted mainly individuals and groups with strong links to the regime. See Anwar Nasution, "The Adjustment Program in the Indonesian Economy Since the 1980s", in Hal Hill, ed., Indonesian Assessment 1991 (Canberra: Australian National University, 1991), pp. 14-37. A positive appraisal of the economy is given in Hal Hill, "The Economy",  in Indonesian New Order, pp. 54-122. Hill deems as not very damaging to economic development the rampant nepotism in Indonesia, chronic corruption, the scandals, ideological and policy rigidities, ineffective fiscal and environmental management, and high external indebtedness. Successful economic development in Indonesia is attributed by the author to economic and political stability, respect for property rights, re-entry into the international community, market-based prices and exchange rates, and the political will to take unpopular decisions. For a brief analysis of the role of foreign aid in propping up the economy and regime, mainly through the Inter-Governmental Group on Indonesia (IGGI), a consortium of Western donors, see McDonald, Suharto’s Indonesia, pp. 68-86. Also Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 46-48. 

 

  For accounts of the conflicts between technocrats and the "palace generals", bureaucratic interests, and Suharto’s cronies and family, which made economic liberalization and reforms an uphill fight, see Crouch, The Army and Politics, pp. 318-330; Schwarz, A Nation, pp. 71-97; and Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 39-40, 43-45, 50-52, 171-172, 173-174, 176-178.

 

[176]  MacIntyre, Business and Politics, esp. pp. 6-21, 22-65 (Chs. 2 and 3). He argues that the New Order state is not as monopolistic and stifling as many Indonesianists make it out to be. But the author admits (p. 247), industry groups have had to wrest concessions from the state, the "corporatist" struct-ure of which "obstructed demand-making". He also emphasizes that his research does not mean "the whole state-sponsored corporatist network" is becoming more inclusionary. In reviewing McIntyre's work, R. Stephen Milne notes that the earlier views may also be valid, since the Indonesia of the late 1980s differed markedly from previous eras. For R. Stephen Milne’s review of McIntyre’s work, see Pacific Affairs, Vol. 63, No. 3, Fall 1992, pp. 439-441. 

 

[177]   For accounts of "charitable" foundations in general and Suharto’s in particular, see "Charity Begins at Home: Indonesian Social Foundations Play Major Economic Role", and "The Cash Conduit", FEER (4 October 1990), pp. 62-64. Some foundations are genuinely concerned with relief for the poor, while others are set up as fronts for employee-welfare schemes, pension funds, hospitals, private schools, universities, and religious institutions. Eighteen charitable foundations are run by Suharto, Madame Suharto, and/or their extended family. 

 

[178]  On free trade unions and their activities, see Michael Vatikiotis, "All Rights Reserved: Free Trade Unions Strains Government Tolerance", FEER (6 December 1990), pp. 15-16; and Adam Schwarz, "Pressures of Work: Growing Labor Unrest Triggers Government Reaction", FEER (20 June 1991), pp. 14-16.  On NGOs, see Margot Cohen, "High Anxiety: Government Proposal Could Crimp NGO Activities", FEER (29 September 1994), p. 32; and Colin McAndrews, "Politics of the Environment in Indonesia", Asian Survey, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4 (April 1994), pp. 369-380.

 

[179]  R. William Liddle, "Indonesia’s Democratic Past and Future", Comparative Politics, Vol. 24, No. 4 (July 1992), pp. 443-462. 

 

[180]  J.A.C. Mackie, "Property and Power in Indonesia" and "Money and the Middle Class", in Richard Tanter and Kenneth Young, eds., The Politics of the Middle Class In Indonesia (Victoria, Australia: Aristoc Press Pty. Ltd., 1990), pp. 71-95 and 96-122.  Mackie contends that whatever influence they have is based on personal ties and obtains in particular decision areas only. 

 

[181]  Ibid. Also, see Liddle, "Regime in Crisis?", pp. 17-18.  Liddle states that the Indonesian middle class is disproportionately bureaucratic; and many are clients of state patrons. The entrepreneurial sub-class, meanwhile, considered "a critical group in much analysis of democratization", is largely Sino-Indonesian. 

 

[182]  For a discussion of the hegemonic imprint of traditional and neo-traditional values in "modern" Southeast Asian societies, see Niels Mulder, Inside Southeast Asia: Thai, Javanese and Filipino Inter-pretations of Everyday Life (Bangkok: Editions Duang Kamol, 1992). 

 

[183]  On the fear and suspicion of political Islam among the military and New Order elites, see Vatikiotis, Indonesian Politics, pp. 120-138 (Ch. 5, "Toward an Islamic Identity?"); Jenkins, Suharto, pp. 6-12, 31, 36, 248; and Ramage, Politics in Indonesia. This work is a comprehensive analysis of Islamic political actors and their complex attitudes towards Pancasila, the New Order state and its dominators.  It also addresses the interaction and conflicts among Islamic factions and leaders.