Jose Manuel Tesoro, Jakarta – In the Indonesian political equation, the elements – Islamic groups, student fronts, opposition parties, military factions – are legion and ever-changing. Possible permutations – a coalition, a new government, martial law, absolute chaos – multiply daily. But in everyone's political calculus is one shadowy constant: Suharto. The president resigned in May last year, but many Indonesians believe he has yet to relinquish the power accumulated over 32 years of carefully dispensed patronage and liberally applied terror. No one acquires that much authority and then docilely retires to the caprice of retribution, goes the thinking. In the "post-Suharto" era, the 77-year-old retired general remains a powerful but little-understood player.
He is being blamed for the latest wave of unrest to rock the nation, which included six days of rioting in the eastern province of Maluku and two days in Karawang, West Java. Two days after a Jan. 24 meeting between armed forces chief Wiranto and top oppositionists, Muslim leader Abdurrahman Wahid visited Suharto at his home in the central Jakarta district of Menteng. He conveyed a message from Wiranto to his former boss: Rein in your "loyal and terrifying" followers. "Only Suharto is able to restrain them," Wahid quoted the chief of the armed forces. "Others cannot and do not have the influence."
Does the former president retain that much power? Not directly. The fact is, Suharto is merely shorthand for a variety of people and forces who have a stake in maintaining the status quo in Indonesia. The aged leader himself has kept a low, almost vulnerable, profile, fending off attempts by government to investigate his riches. In June, he prayed at a mosque at military headquarters. Not long after, he hired a team of lawyers to defend him. In September, he explained on his daughter Siti Hardiyanti Rukmana's television channel that he had no ill-gotten wealth. He went to the High Court to fill out a form saying he only had a few million dollars' worth of bank accounts and property. He has been questioned about his money once by the attorney-general.
But in Indonesia, much occurs beneath the surface. That the Suharto family and their friends amassed wealth during the 32 years of the New Order is undisputed; only the amount is in question. And despite at least the veneer of investigation, that yet-unquantified economic strength remains largely untouched by the government of his successor, President B.J. Habibie. In November, Suharto turned over to Jakarta the funds of the seven largest foundations he headed. These "charitable" entities, fueled by required donations from corporations and civil servants, funded some legitimate causes, but also paid for activities favorable to the government, such as rallies for ruling party Golkar. But they are barely the tip of the iceberg. "Does the money in the foundations reflect all the wealth of Suharto?" asks sociologist Cornelius Lay, who wrote a book on the Suharto foundations. The answer: not even a fraction. Self-appointed Suharto wealth-hunter George Aditjondro lists over a hundred foundations linked to Suharto, his family and his cronies, most with complicated connections to public and private companies, the military, and ministries.
Lay explains that during the New Order, money was used to reward and to punish. Government-granted monopolies and privileges cemented loyalty to Suharto and undermined opponents. A stable transition following Suharto's departure might have allowed a committed government to root out widespread rot in the system. But it hasn't happened. Habibie is instead faced with a country in turmoil. The connection here is critical: Suharto supported so many people – from former ministers to generals, businessmen to religious leaders – that any of them could see unrest as helping their interests. Suharto need not come back as long as the benefits he and his associates accrued during the New Order are not imperiled. "They don't care about the means, the end is so important," says longtime Indonesian observer Arief Budiman. "This is their survival. Their survival and their power are the same thing."
That might explain why underground political activities, including provocations, have not ceased with Suharto's removal. Jakarta's Legal Aid Institute last year compiled a 46-page document reviewing 1998's arc of unrest – from anti-Chinese riots from January through May, to the killings of suspected sorcerers in East Java that surfaced in October, to the late-1998 spate of religious-related riots in Jakarta and eastern Indonesia. Its conclusion: There is a clear pattern of small, highly trained groups stirring up trouble. Workers at the Institute report incursions by intelligence agents and infiltrators at their offices. The same goes for the student movement. "It is even worse than it was under Suharto," says Suyanto, a student activist.
One Suharto-era semi-underground organization now under scrutiny is the Pancasila Youth, which has been blamed for participating in the rioting that surrounded the government siege of opposition leader Megawati Sukarnoputri's party headquarters in 1996. Recently, political activist Ibrahim claims some 160 Ambonese members of the group were shipped to Ambon days before the riots there, which left nearly 100 people dead. The result of the rioting shocked him. "People are having to take drugs to calm their emotions," he says.
The Pancasila Youth's leader, Yorries Raweyai, was present at one of Wahid's early meetings with Suharto – evidence, Wahid later said, that bringing Suharto to account is not yet possible because of the support he commands. The chief of the Pancasila Youth's presidium, Yapto Suryosumarno, claims the group is reformist. "Show us some proof that our people are involved in all these things," he told Asiaweek. "Then we will take action against them ourselves." But the attention paid to the Pancasila Youth and its close connections to Suharto ignores how easy it is for instigators to find troublemakers. A few thousand rupiah will buy provocateurs from the growing population of the poor and unemployed.
The two people responsible for dismantling the old patronage and political terror networks, Wiranto and Habibie, owe much to Suharto. Unsurprisingly, what the former boss built remains intact. Wiranto was a former adjutant; Habibie was Suharto's favorite minister – meetings between them often lasted for hours. Every approach to Suharto's private home in Menteng remains heavily guarded on Wiranto's orders. When his first attorney-general started looking seriously at the Suharto wealth, Habibie promptly replaced him with a retired general, Andi Ghalib. Ghalib has summoned Suharto and family members for questioning, but, eight months after Suharto's resignation, no charges have been filed. "I only need two of the documents that the attorney-general has," frets former National Commission on Human Rights secretary-general Baharuddin Lopa, "and I would be able to drag Suharto into court."
Beyond the loyalty he still commands, Suharto has also not lost his ability to strike fear in the hearts of Indonesians. In their most recent meeting, says a well-placed source, Suharto asked Wahid if it was true that the Muslim leader publicly blamed the former president for the unrest. No, Wahid corrected him, I blamed your followers. When armed forces chief Wiranto heard about the exchange, he marveled at Wahid's bravery.
But Wiranto is not altogether cowed by his former boss. His overtures to oppositionists like Wahid indicate a desire to seek alternative support. At the same time, the general is being tugged by his own institution's interests. The military's dominant political position (a feature of the New Order) is under attack. For example, the military was forced to settle for a slashed number of seats in parliament, and it endures constant criticism for its economic and political presence.
Like the Suharto cronies who have a stake in continued turmoil, peace might hasten the decline of the military's power. Only when there is instability can security forces step forward as the antidote. "The riots create a climate of fear in which people start wishing they had the stability of the Suharto era again," says political scientist Indria Samego. In an environment of growing chaos, even bit players like middle-level businessmen, according to human-rights activists, can provide cash to, in one case, pay school kids to lob stones at police during a student demonstration.
Speculation about organized agitation is especially worrisome in towns that are fearful of future trouble. Police in North Sulawesi's capital of Manado say that to alert residents, the province's governor has told them that 300 provocateurs have been identified as active in the city. The Sultan of Jogjakarta also believes agents are already present in his area. Other nervous centers include Ujung Pandang in South Sulawesi and Pontianak, West Kalimantan. The public want Suharto, his family and his followers finished. But cornering the former president neither benefits the elite that survived him nor comforts oppositionists who must weigh whether an attack would further endanger an already fragile transition. As long as the country is in turmoil – and old networks and institutions intact – any sustained assault on the old New Order is nearly impossible. Which suits too many people just fine. The "smiling general" seeks a quiet retirement. He is winning it.