R. William Liddle – How likely is it that Indonesia will once again be ruled by the Indonesian Military (TNI)? In Jakarta several weeks ago a young reformist intellectual assured me that it can't happen here, that Indonesians now understand fully the terrible cost paid in human rights violations and denial of democratic freedoms during the 40 years of Sukarno's and Soeharto's army-based dictatorships. For him, Indonesian democracy is already consolidated.
A more senior civilian observer predicted that if the army does return to politics, it will be as a powerful behind-the-scenes force, shaping government policies in which it has an interest. In his view, Indonesian democracy may soon become, perhaps has already become, a permanent half-way house, without civilian supremacy but also without military rule.
Since May 1998 I have been more appreciative than critical of the TNI, at least in terms of its domestic activities (East Timor is another matter). Armed Forces Commander Gen. Wiranto did not attempt to prevent then Vice-President B. J. Habibie, a civilian disliked by the military, from becoming president.
Over the next year the TNI did not undermine president Habibie's project to democratize Indonesia by holding free parliamentary elections, the first since 1955. Indeed, during this period it formally rescinded its twin-functions doctrine.
The TNI/Polri delegation took a back seat when the civilian fractions in the People's Consultative Assembly (MPR) chose Abdurrahman Wahid (Gus Dur) as president in October 1999 and when they dismissed him in July 2001. Laudably, the generals rejected Gus Dur's last-ditch attempt to save himself by staging a Sukarno-style coup against the MPR.
After a recent trip to Jakarta, however, I am increasingly concerned that progress toward civilian supremacy, a vital pillar of a democratic Indonesia, has been stopped if not reversed. My concern stems not from the TNI's new offensive against the Free Aceh Movement (GAM), although that could make the generals more powerful politically (if they win a quick victory) or more frustrated and angry at civilian politicians (if they bog down and are pulled out by a government sensitive to accusations of brutality). Nor am I especially worried about the "coup article" in the proposed armed forces law, which would enable the TNI to shoot first, in an emergency situation, and report to the president later.
My concern is more basic. It comes from a slowly dawning recognition that nothing fundamental has in fact changed since 1998. TNI, or more accurately army, leaders (the navy and air force have not been significant players for decades), continue to hold a self-image and possess resources that predispose and enable them to intervene in national political life in a manner and at a time of their own choosing. Moreover, they have been steadily accumulating a list of grievances against civilian politicians that can serve as the justification, to themselves and others, for eventually taking power.
The self-image has two parts. Looking inward, officers see the army not only as a highly-valued institution but also as a corporate or nearly free-standing entity whose internal coherence and unity they must protect from outsiders. To use a military metaphor, they live in a fortress whose walls are constantly in danger of being breached. They must therefore be built ever higher and stronger.
Looking outward, they identify their own integrity and security with the integrity and security of the whole state and of the Indonesian people or nation. Whatever threatens the nation and state, external or internal to Indonesia, threatens the army.
Since the Revolution, those threats have come almost entirely from inside the country, mainly in the forms of regional separatism, radical Islam, and communism. The army must be ever vigilant against domestic threats from these sources in order to protect itself institutionally.
To return to the military metaphor, not only do officers have to build high walls against outsiders, they must also pacify a broad swath of territory beyond the fortress. That is the ultimate persuasive inside-the-army justification for intervention in matters of state and nation.
What resources does the army possess that might enable it to intervene directly in civilian politics at some time in the relatively near future? The most obvious, beyond its near-monopoly over the instruments of violence, are the territorial system and the foundations that provide perhaps 70 percent of the army's total income (the remaining 30 percent comes from the state budget). A government that does not pay its soldiers can not control their actions.
The territorial system is both a major source of income, enabling the army to build the fortress walls higher, and a powerful tool for controlling hostile groups and mobilizing friendly ones in society (for example, the so-called militias that have terrorized local populations in several regions). Unfortunately, the defense ministry's recent white paper has made it plain that the territorial system will not be dismantled any time soon. "We are not yet a stable modern country like the United States or Britain," said the ministry's director-general for defense strategy. "The TNI needs to know the territorial situation."
A less noticed characteristic of the army today is that it is virtually a state within the state. This was also formally the case during the New Order, but the concentration of power in Soeharto's hands at that time meant that no state agencies, especially the army, were effectively autonomous of presidential control. Today, the TNI is structurally separate from the defense ministry. The armed forces commander (an army general) has his own seat in the cabinet, next to the politically-appointed defense minister. In violation of the most basic principle of civilian supremacy, the armed forces commander has policy making as well as policy implementing responsibilities.
The army also controls its own portion of the state budget. No other state agency exercises effective oversight over army expenditures. Not even the armed forces commander, let alone the minister of defense and the president on the executive side or the members of Commission I in the House of Representatives on the legislative side play a significant role.
As one close observer of the budget process told me, "the army leaders make it very clear to all concerned that their budget is their business."
Army grievances against the actions of civilian politicians post-1998 are legion. The main story line has been familiar since the late 1940s, but the examples are new. Former president Habibie gave up East Timor, breaking a sacred Soeharto promise now inscribed for eternity in the East Timor memorial at armed forces headquarters in Cilangkap. Presidents Habibie and Gus Dur supported a governmental decentralization program that is leading to chaos if not national disintegration.
At the end of the Habibie period, the police were separated from the armed forces, whose duties are now restricted to national defense. As events have proven, according to the defense ministry's white paper, the police are incapable of maintaining domestic security without army help. The constitutional amendment process, for which many civilian politicians are responsible, is deeply flawed. Among other things, it produced federalism – the first step on the road to national breakup – in the form of the Regional Representative Council. Finally, like Habibie and East Timor, Gus Dur and Megawati Soekarnoputri allowed the Aceh problem to be internationalized, increasing the power of GAM.
My conclusions are not alarmist. I have no personal knowledge that today's officers are plotting a coup against the democratically elected government. Nonetheless, a realistic appraisal of the current state of civil-military relations should conclude that the army, five years into reformasi, remains a closed corporate group willing and able to protect its prerogatives, if need be at the expense of others.
Partisans of democracy should not despair but rather take stock of their own goals, strategies and resources. The contest has just begun.
[R. William Liddle is a Professor of Politics at the Ohio State University.]