Sangwon Suh and Tom McCawley, Jakarta – Abdurrahman Wahid must have the toughest job on the planet. As if governing the fourth-most populous nation in the world isn't challenging enough, Indonesia's president has inherited a host of problematic legacies, each of which has the potential to derail a government that is not even 100 days old.
Despite the winds of change blowing through the country, the culture of corruption remains entrenched and vested interests are proving resistant to efforts at reform. The military may have had its wings clipped, but it remains an unpredictable factor in the political equation. East Timor's recent split from Indonesia has given fresh impetus to pro-independence agitations in Aceh and Irian Jaya (recently renamed Papua). And now the Maluku archipelago, the site of bitter religious strife over the past year, has gone up in flames once again.
The latest round of bloodshed was triggered by a traffic accident in Ambon, capital of Maluku province. A Christian bus driver ran over a Muslim child; the accident victim later died, leading an angry Muslim mob to torch a local church. The violence escalated and spread to other parts of the Malukus. As Muslim and Christian mobs fought each other and razed entire towns, thousands of refugees fled to nearby islands. Vice President Megawati Sukarnoputri was charged with resolving the crisis. "Ambon is like a war zone," says an American who just returned from the islands. "When the military commander can't get to his own office, it is a good sign that no one's in control."
After a week and a half of rampage, the army estimated that over 600 were dead. Unconfirmed reports put the number at 2,000. Over 12 battalions have been deployed in Ambon to quell the fighting and disarm local inhabitants, but the troops have proved to be largely ineffectual in preventing outbreaks of violence. In one case, they even added to the death toll by firing into battling mobs.
The roots of the current crisis go back deep into history. The Malukus, which are divided into Maluku and North Maluku provinces, are situated in eastern Indonesia between Sulawesi and Papua.
The hundreds of islands that make up the archipelago include Ambon, Halmahera, Buru and Seram. During the colonial period, they were known as the Spice Islands, and clove and nutmeg remain major export items. Unlike the rest of Indonesia, the Malukus' population is evenly divided between Muslims and Christians – a legacy of the proselytizing efforts of Portuguese missionaries in the 16th century. Under Dutch rule, Muslims claimed that Christians were being favored with government posts. After Independence, it was the Christians who were feeling alienated as the Malukus experienced an influx of Muslim immigrants from neighboring islands. Not only were there sharp cultural differences, there emerged an economic gap between the prosperous Muslim traders in the north and the Christian farmers and fisherfolk in the south.
Recent national events helped turn the simmering discord into open conflict. The violence and wrenching political transition following Suharto's downfall broke down social inhibitions and corroded the authority of village elders. "The youth no longer listen to traditional or tribal leaders," says Tamrin Amal Tomagola, a Maluku-born Muslim sociologist at the University of Indonesia. As to how long it will take to rebuild Ambon, "it will be one or two generations," sighs Abdullah Soulisa, chief preacher of the Al-Fatah mosque in downtown Ambon. "Mothers and children have been murdered, Ambon lies in ruins."
There may, however, be more to the conflict than just historical enmity. There is suspicion that elements of the Indonesian military are involved in the unrest.
Police sweeping operations have netted not only homemade firearms and machetes, but also French-made assault rifles and grenades, which are only available through the army. It may well be that disgruntled members of the military are provoking the riots in order to weaken President Wahid's position. The relationship between the government and the army has been uneasy lately, as typified by the souring relations between Wahid and Gen. Wiranto, formerly the armed forces chief, now the coordinating minister for security and political affairs. Wahid has pursued the investigation of the military's role in East Timor's violence last fall, and several top figures have been questioned, including Wiranto. Many inside the army are said to be deeply unhappy at the probe and at the new democratic climate in which the soldiers are being portrayed as human-rights abusing brutes.
According to intelligence sources, the army is now determined to swing the balance of power back in its favor. The Maluku unrest, they say, is an effort to distract the attention of the navy and the marines, who are Wahid's allies, leaving the army with a freer hand in Java and the national capital Jakarta.
Meanwhile, rumors have been swirling in Jakarta of a cabinet reshuffle in which Wahid would drop Wiranto. Both Wiranto and House speaker Akbar Tanjung denied that a reshuffle was imminent. Still, the rumors served to underline the friction between Wahid and Wiranto, as manifested in the disagreement over the approach to pacifying Ambon. The general wanted to impose martial law, but the president opposed it. (On January 5, however, Wiranto did announce that press coverage in Ambon would be restricted.)
The challenges that now face Wahid are daunting. In order to resolve the crisis, not to mention secure his own position, he must build bridges with a military that is angry and defensive. He must prevent the violence from spreading and stoking separatist sentiments elsewhere. He must balance the interests of the disparate elements in his government, including those who would take sides in the current conflict. "The ethnic cleansing of Muslims in Ambon saddens me," said Amien Rais, chairman of the People's Consultative Assembly and a former Muslim leader. "My heart is hot, my head is hot. Religious law teaches a life for a life, an ear for an ear, an eye for an eye." The new year may have so far proved Y2K-free, but for Wahid it is hardly turning out to be happy.
[With reporting by Dewi Loveard/Jakarta]