Seth Mydans, Jakarta – In the nearly two years since Indonesia's strongman, Suharto, stepped down in May 1998, it is the press that has been the most free, and the most tumultuous, of Indonesia's institutions. It has been the fundamental underpinning for the continuing move toward a democratic society.
But in some ways today it is also a victim, not just a protagonist, in the liberation – and disorder – it has helped unleash. Its condition reveals a lot about the chaotic freedoms of the new Indonesia, where the harsh hand of the dictator has often given way to the unpredictable passions of the mob.
In many arenas the rules that governed, and often stifled, the nation have been eased or removed or simply ignored. As a result – as in many newly liberated nations – Indonesia's road from repression to democracy is wild and uncertain.
This week, the focus of change is on the military, with President Abdurrahman Wahid returning Sunday from a foreign trip to confront his most prominent general, Wiranto, who has so far refused the president's demand to resign.
The general, accused of human rights abuses, represents the old guard that, under Suharto, saw itself as standard bearer and enforcer of a top-down regime known for corruption, repression, and the silencing of dissent.
Since Suharto's fall, the military has been retreating under the pressure of a popular demand for civilian rule. But its new weakness in the eyes of society comes with a social cost: It has contributed to the uncertainties and instabilities the nation faces.
"At the present moment," said Susanto Pudjosumatono, chief editor of the daily Jakarta Post, "who cares about the law? Street justice is the order of the day. Mobs deal with thieves and burglars. Police are caught red-handed as burglars. Villagers loot estates. Communal conflicts are flaring. People resort to violence to settle disputes."
This is the arena in which the press now operates. Freed of the fear of arrest or the closure of their newspapers, editors no longer censor themselves to please authorities. But self-censorship is alive among editors of newspapers both big and small. It is the mob they fear.
When Christian churches were burned on the island of Lombok recently, one newspaper, sidestepping the religious conflict, declined to identify them, calling them blandly "houses of worship."
When mobs demonstrated in the eastern Indonesian city of Ujungpandang late last year, local editors said they refrained from revealing the instigators for fear that the mobs would turn on them as well.
In the central Javanese city of Solo, the most devastated city in the huge riots of early 1998, armed thugs have threatened reporters in their newsroom.
Even in the capital, Jakarta, not long ago, a mob protested outside the offices of Tempo, the nation's leading magazine, vandalizing vehicles.
Clear and professional reporting can be the most difficult in the places where it is most needed, places like Ambon and Aceh where separatist or communal conflicts threaten to touch off a nationwide backlash.
Bambang Harimukti, the editor of Tempo, said that to assure that his reports are complete and unbiased he must consider sending in non-local staff members who leave the area as soon as their reporting is done. "It is not the authorities wielding their power who are the biggest threat anymore," Susanto said. "Now the clear and present danger comes from the people."
In this unstable arena, the press has played a crucial role in keeping the country's political and social evolution more or less on course. As an independent institution, its reforms came quickly, leading the way into a new atmosphere of openness. "With all the changes we've seen, the press is perhaps Indonesia's most transformed institution," said Warief Djajanto, an executive at the Indonesian news agency, Antara.
In the first 18 months after Suharto stepped down, 1,500 press licenses were issued by the liberal-minded new minister of information, Yunus Yosfiah. Then, under a new press law passed last fall, the requirement for licenses was abolished. Nobody knows now how many newspapers and radio stations have joined the babble around the nation, but they have contributed to a brand new sense that anything goes.
The best of the newspapers offer serious political reporting and analysis, investigations of corruption and military abuses, high-stakes policy debates and fundamental explorations of new directions for Indonesia.
But with so many new outlets, the country suffers from a crippling shortage of trained journalists and much of what is printed and aired lacks fundamental elements of accuracy and fairness.
With so few resources, some small newspapers do not even pay their reporters. They simply issue them press cards and leave them to seek whatever fees and payoffs they can earn from their sources. "When we organize training for young reporters, many lack professionalism both in journalistic competence and in ethical competence," Susanto said.
Defense Minister Juwono Sudarsono, in a recent interview, complained of widespread tabloid journalism. "We have a vigorous press but it is often a vigorous and irresponsible press," he said. "A lot of hopes have been placed in the press but I don't think these hopes have been fulfilled."
Perhaps those hopes were too high at this early stage. Without the free press, flawed as it is, Indonesia might have made far less progress than it has.
When Suharto was president, just about every institution in Indonesia had one thing in common: from the courts to the bureaucracy to the military to the press, they were tailored to serve his interests. When he departed, he left intact a venal and self-serving legislature, a power-hungry military and a thoroughgoing culture of corruption that, without the pressure of an overwhelming popular will, might well have reverted to their old ways.
They never had a chance. Suddenly, political talk shows filled the airwaves, an unfiltered puree of wisdom and nonsense. But at their heart was a powerful momentum for change.