That formula ‘Kill or be killed’ Aboeprijadi Santoso ;   A Journalist

                                                 JAKARTA POST, 01 Oktober 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

It was sometime after Idul Fitri in mid-December 1965, when we were returning home by car from Malang, East Java, to Bandung in West Java, that we suddenly had to stop near a bridge in Central Java. And like everyone else we walked toward the bridge where the crowd stood. To everyone’s great shock, there were about 20 to 30 dead bodies floating in the river — untouched. There was, in retrospect, nothing special about it since the national media, in particular the army dailies of Angkatan Bersenjata and Berita Yudha, had, by then, already extensively and spiritedly reported the Army campaign to destroy the members and supporters of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI).  What was most conspicuous, however, was that none of those villagers were talking to each other in public about what they had seen. Some whispered among themselves. I asked someone there about it, but received no reply. They just watched for a few seconds, then quickly moved and went away. No one dared to approach the corpses.  The villagers apparently understood that they were being exposed to the fatalities of the day, of the fate of their parents, sons, daughters, friends or fellow villagers, who were persecuted and killed simply because they were on the “wrong side”.  In other words, the corpses of those alleged communists or left wing activists and their families were to remain there to convey the unspoken message of the local authorities: stay put or be killed. What happened in that village, of course, was just a microcosm of what had tragically engulfed the whole nation — in particular Central and East Java, Bali, Aceh, North Sumatra and eastern Indonesia. Today, a half-century later, we hear yet again the same message that preceded and accompanied the mass killings of the mid-1960s: either you kill them, or you’ll be killed if they win — a stereotypical assertion that fallaciously assumes an “if-history” to be real. In 2003, at the height of the Aceh conflict in Pidie regency, media colleagues and I saw a corpse of a young Acehnese ustadz (preacher) from less than a meter’s distance. He was allegedly responsible for inciting local villagers to help the rebellion.  The dead man was tied to a small tree, his throat cut with fresh blood still visible, at a site easily seen by anyone passing the village. Similar to the 1965 scene, this body was also to remain there until it was found and removed, not by the authorities, but by the locals. That public showing of corpses in 1965 in Central Java and of the dead preacher in 2003 in Pidie performed exactly the same function as that of a huge number of obsolete marine boats and amphibious vehicles that I saw on the shore in front of the government office in 1994 in Dili, East Timor, that had been there, abandoned since the 1975 invasion. They all showcase methods to intimidate the locals when a state power is about to break an opposition force, and purge the masses assumed to be the backbone of that opposition.  In short, it’s a classic state problem of how to more or less permanently eliminate its enemy and keep the public silent forever.  Did Soeharto, a former colonial Royal Netherland East Indies Army (KNIL) soldier, learn the method of shaping Rust en Orde (tranquility and order), from the implementation of that motto of the similarly violent Dutch colonial state? More pointedly, perhaps, the deadly warning “kill or be killed” could also have been inferred from the famous three-hour speech of Himmler — the Nazi architect of the Holocaust — explicating the Nazi’s “final solution” doctrine of “rule or be ruled by the Jews”, which they believed would decide the fate of the German race.  Similarly for Indonesia in the mid-1960s, “kill or be killed” was the magic formula of state propaganda – next to the lie that PKI-affiliate Indonesian Women’s Movement (Gerwani) women had mutilated the bodies of the generals - that proved effective to incite hate and anger in those days.  There are reasons to believe that this kind of propaganda may generally still be effective today though not necessarily for the same reasons as 50 years ago.  After all, today’s ruling generation was, for the greater part, educated under the New Order system, and remains ideologically akin to it. Vested interests and religiously motivated groups among the rising middle class may welcome any ideological weapon to fight any perceived threat. Meanwhile, however, there has been some sort of moral awakening and rise of the politics of memory since the mid-1990s in Indonesian civil society — somewhat parallel to the early phase of the intellectual awakening among history teachers and artists in post-Franco Spain, which led to the adoption of the Historical Memory Law in 2007 to re-assess the tragic impacts of Spain’s 1930s Civil War. While attempts to dig up mass graves of 1965 were mostly local, articles, books, novels, films and audio visual material showings and public debates were published even before the National Commission of Human Rights’ investigation and media revelations of the 1965 killings in 2012. Next came the great popularity — despite widespread resistance by groups instigated by local authorities — of Joshua Oppenheimer’s two award-winning films (The Act of Killing and The Look of Silence) about the perpetrators and victims of the 1965 massacres.  That may just be the beginning of an awakening, which may be as inevitable as new generations come and reckon with the inevitable questions. They will inquire as to how this proud nation, which once cited humanity as its motive for national independence, could have allowed such mass killings to occur and leave a legacy of national trauma and impunity for so long. This is the reason that it is so important to review the 1965 massacres and its impact in order to find the truth before everything else. ●

1965 – Tahun Matahari Tenggelam: Sebuah Refleksi Aboeprijadi Santoso ;  Wartawan; Pernah bertugas untuk Radio Nederland Seksi Indonesia (1982-2007); Koresponden di Jakarta (2008-2012); Menulis di berbagai media

                                              INDOPROGRESS, 16 September 2015

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                           

SEKITAR Lebaran 25 Desember 1965. Saya sudah lupa tanggalnya, tapi apa yang saya saksikan pada hari-hari itu kemudian melekat di benak hingga sekarang. Kembali dari Malang menuju Bandung, selepas Yogya, tiba-tiba semua kendaraan berhenti. Di jalanan orang hilir mudik. Semua diam atau berbisik-bisik. Tak ada tentara. Ada yang muram, setengah lari kembali ke rumah. Ada yang hanya saling pandang. Aneh, tak ada riang selepas Lebaran itu. Yang ada kegalauan yang membuat kami – kala itu saya masih di bangku terakhir SMA – masygul, terheran-heran ada apa gerangan. Maka kami pun menuju tepi jembatan tempat banyak orang berkumpul dan memandang ke bawah, ke sungai. Sejumlah jasad terkapar di pinggir dan tengah sungai yang dangkal. Terkejut dan terhenyak sesaat, saya tak menghitung jumlahnya. Yang pasti ada puluhan. Mikrokosmos Mereka menonton, diam, lalu pergi. Pertama kali saya menyaksikan puluhan mayat manusia menjadi tontonan publik dan membiarkannya. Kami pun melanjutkan perjalanan pulang. Tak ada yang istimewa dari kesaksian itu – kecuali bahwa hanya mimik dan raut wajah mereka menjadi bahasa yang bercerita. Sebelumnya, sejak Oktober, sudah ada kabar media tentang aksi-aksi “Basmi PKI” (Partai Komunis Indonesia). Kebanyakan orang mungkin tak segera menyadari skala dan betapa mendalam apa yang terjadi bagi masyarakat. Bandung memang bukan tempat yang tepat untuk merasakan getaran drama dan tragedi yang tengah berlangsung. Tetapi, bahasa wajah di Jawa Tengah tadi menunjukkan bahwa orang menyadari benar yang terjadi, bahwa mayat-mayat terkapar di sungai itu hanyalah sebuah mikrokosmos dari malapetaka yang lebih besar. Sebuah porsi lokal dari gambar besar yang menjelma menjadi warna zaman. Meski diam, takut, atau berbisik-bisik, khalayak desa menyadari sebuah tragedi sedang melanda bangsa ini – dan sebuah aparat negara berada dibaliknya. Inilah pembantaian manusia terbesar di Nusantara sejak, sebutlah, anak buah Jan Pieterzoons Coen membantai penduduk Pulau Banda, sejak aksi Kapten Westerling di Sulawesi Selatan, sejak Jepang memaksakan Romusha, sejak aksi pemuda terhadap tawanan Belanda di masa yang disebut ‘Bersiap’ 1945-46. Kini, dua dasawarsa setelah merdeka, bangsa ini menjadi korban ketika setengah juta nila tumpah, merusak sebelanga susu republik – yaitu republik hasil perjuangan bangsa itu sendiri. Dua Zeitgeist Tiga tahun kemudian, 1968, semasa mahasiswa di Leiden, Belanda, setiap hari saya bersepeda melewati sebuah jembatan-gantung yang ditandai graffiti Soeharto Moordenaar (Soeharto Pembunuh). Di Amsterdam beredar poster bertajuk ‘The Archipelago of Prisons’ (Kepulauan Penjara) terbitan Amnesty International sekitar 1974. Tahun 1968 hingga 1980an pergolakan di Dunia Ketiga mewarnai Eropa. Di Belanda, guru besar sejarah dan sosiologi Asia Prof. Dr. W. F. Wertheim yang memimpin Komittee Indonesie dan majalah Feiten en Meningen, memelopori kajian kritis dan penyadaran masyarakat akan isu kediktaturan dan kekejaman di Indonesia, tepat di saat Belanda memulihkan hubungan dengan Indonesia.‘Terug van weggeweest’ (‘Belanda Kembali lagi ke Indonesia’), begitu istilah sinisnya. Di Paris, semacam Mekkah gerakan mahasiswa tahun 1970an, filsuf Jean-Paul Sartre menyulut kebangkitan cendekia dan perhatian dunia pada Dunia Ketiga. Di Stockholm, filsuf Bertrand Russel menggugah nurani dunia melalui Vietnam War Crime Tribunal (1971) dan mengingatkan bahwa di Indonesia dalam enam bulan jatuh korban sebesar Perang Vietnam dalam beberapa dekade (1954-1975). Sementara pemboman-permadani atas Kamboja melahirkan rezim Khmer Rouge yang tak kalah kejam dengan rezim Orde Baru di Indonesia. Betapa kontras zaman telah memuncak. Di Dunia Ketiga, rezim-rezim di Asia dan Amerika Latin menemukan ‘solusi’ Perang Dingin dengan jalan pintas berupa kediktaturan militer dan pembantaian massa, di satu pihak, justru ketika di Eropa tuntutan Zeitgeist (warna zaman) menyoal ‘solusi’ semacam itu dan di Amerika masyarakat bangkit menentang Perang Vietnam, di lain pihak. Pada titik itulah orang menohok hipokrisi dunia: percaturan negara (geo-politik) yang mencurahkan perhatian besar terhadap kekejaman rezim komunis ala Khmer Merah di Kamboja, tetapi pada saat bersamaan bungkam tentang pembantaian manusia 1965-1966, yang memukul sayap kiri di Indonesia.[1] Kejahatan beranak-pinak Tahun 1990-2000an, konsep ‘Dunia Ketiga’ tadi lenyap dari khasanah publik, narasinya hilang dari wacana dunia, dan tokoh-tokoh tadi telah tiada. Tetapi ‘1965’ masih melekat, merasuki naluri masyarakat, menjadi trauma bangsa, dan kini perlahan tampil di permukaan publik dengan upaya-upaya lokal menggali kuburan-kuburan massal, fakta dan khasanah baru seputar tragedi itu. Pasca-1998, tahun ‘1965’ itu terbit kembali. Ada yang menyebutnya ‘Prahara’, ada yang memilih istilah ‘Holocaust’ dari khasanah Nazi di Jerman 1940an yang lebih mengena bagi Tragedi Besar ‘1965’.[2] Di pertengahan 1990an itulah seorang pemilik hotel di Kuta berkisah kalem tentang perburuan dan pembunuhan di desanya bagaikan hal keseharian yang wajar saja – tanpa sesal dan pahit. Sehari sebelumnya, seorang supir bus yang membawa saya ke kota Denpasar bercerita serupa dengan semangat kebanggaan seorang jago – juga tanpa sesal dan pahit. Menyesal saya tak merekam cerita mereka. (Bali saat itu tempat transit dalam perjalanan tugas saya ke Timor Timur). Betapa pun, setidaknya orang mulai bicara – bahkan kepada orang dari luar desa mereka. Gejala-gejala seperti itu menandai suasana zaman saat bintang Sang Jenderal Besar merosot, legitimasi rezimnya mulai goyah, tapi juga saat tragedi-tragedi berdarah yang membuka jalan bagi Orde Baru makin terungkap – bahkan berkepanjangan seperti di Timor Timur dan Aceh. Di provinsi ke 27 itu, dunia memantau lebih intensif sehingga di akhir pendudukan militer di sana, ketika gelombang kekerasan melandanya selepas jajak-pendapat Agustus 1999, badan PBB UNAMET dapat menyimpulkan bahwa amuk ABRI dan milisi sepanjang paro kedua September menjadi-jadi justru karena mereka kaget dan marah. Bukan saja karena kalah dalam referendum, tapi karena kalah dan menjumpai situasi kebalikan di tahun 1965-66, ketika mereka bisa menghabisi musuh-musuhnya dengan leluasa.[3] Kehadiran ratusan pejabat asing, pengamat asing, LSM dan media dunia menghalangi perburuan massal. Tapi, pada gilirannya, itu mendorong aparat memacu operasi mendeportasi sekitar 200 ribuan warga Tim-Tim ke NTT dalam tempo kurang dari seminggu, dengan mengerahkan truk-truk, kapal dan Hercules. Saya menyaksikannya di kota Dili dan di bandara Comoro. Di tahun yang sama, akhir 1999, warisan ‘1965’ itu juga membayangi operasi tentara di Aceh. Rumah Geudong, sebuah gedung mewah disewa oleh RPKAD untuk menjadi lokasi pemeriksaan dan penyiksaan.[4] Sementara di desa Jim-Jim, juga di Kabupaten Pidie, seorang ibu bercerita bagaimana tentara merendahkan martabat musuhnya dengan menelanjangi seorang perempuan dan menyuruhnya lari memutari lapangan volley. Tersangka separatis itu menjadi ‘hiburan’ bagi satuan serdadu yang menyaksikannya. Seminggu kemudian, kembali ke Amsterdam, dalam wawancara saya, mantan tokoh Gerwani Ibu Sulami bercerita bagaimana tahanan perempuan ‘dihukum’ lari telanjang mengelilingi sebuah kampung di Solo. Lapangan volley di Aceh 1990an dan kampung di Solo 1970an itu cuma saksi bisu dari penistaan yang sama. Bandingkan dengan ‘pameran’ kepala manusia di Kediri 1965[5] dan foto kepala gerilyawan Fretilin dalam adegan pamer ‘kejayaan perang’ di Tim-Tim 1980an. Sepercik kebuasan yang terwariskan. Jadi, ‘1965’ adalah tahun yang berkepanjangan. Dia berekor panjang berkat hegemoni politik-ideologis yang memungkinkan impunitas berjalan laju, tapi juga karena mewariskan metode dan juklak-juklak sanksi dan represi. Cara-cara itu bukan monopoli tentara. Manakala perlu, intimidasi pun dilakukan terhadap pers oleh sementara diplomat (saya mengalaminya di Paris dan di Den Haag awal 1990an) dan oleh polisi (Jayapura, Papua, 2000). Genosida Walhasil, Tragedi Besar 1965 itu sesungguhnya tak pernah berdiri sendiri. Dia semacam diskursus dan model perilaku yang diprojeksikan ke depan, menjadi pola yang ditularkan ke masa kini. Sebuah induk yang beranak-pinak berkat hegemoni kuasa, arus ideologis, modus siksa, macho dan jagoisme – di Tim-Tim, di Aceh dan di berbagai tempat pelanggaran HAM yang lain. Sementara ‘1965’ itu sendiri berskala luas, meliputi konsekuensi fisik, psikologis dan material dari genosida, serial pembantaian massal, perburuan, penahanan, pemusnahan, aniaya, kekerasan seksual, penghilangan-paksa, kerja-paksa, perbudakan, pengasingan dirantau (eksil), stigmatisasi dan diskriminasi sosial-politik dan rasial.[6] Tragedi Besar 1965 itu ibarat matahari tenggelam yang perlahan terbit kembali. Bayang-bayangnya mau tak mau akan tampil – lagi dan lagi – di permukaan, karena ‘1965’ bukan sekadar peristiwa, melainkan rangkaian kejahatan yang bertujuan spesifik namun berdampak luas dan mendalam. Dengan kata lain, Genosida: sebuah proyek dengan muatan niat dan tekad untuk menghabisi suatu kelompok spesifik – kelompok tertuduh-politik – dengan dalih “terlibat” G30S,[7] dan berdampak perubahan sosial dan politik yang luar biasa bagi masyarakat dan negara. Agak mirip Spanyol pasca-Franco di paro awal 2000, Indonesia pada dasawarsa yang sama menyaksikan upaya-upaya awal untuk memproduksi memori masa silamnya yang kelam – untuk setidaknya mencari kebenaran sejarah – melalui publikasi, film, media, penggalian kuburan massal dan perdebatan tentang isu dan kisah-kisah seputar 1965.[8] Kemudian ada upaya Komnas-HAM dan terobosan Joshua Oppenheimer dengan kedua filmnya – ‘The Act of Killing’ (2012) dan ‘The Look of Silence’ (2014) – yang menggugah kesadaran khalayak di Indonesia dan menjadi momentum baru menjelang setengah abad ‘1965’.[9] Syahdan, generasi baru datang yang, mau tak mau, akan tampil dengan pertanyaan “apa yang terjadi”, “mengapa, dan bagaimana, bangsa ini melakukan pembunuhan massal dan sejumlah kejahatan terhadap sesama mereka sendiri”, dan “bagaimana mungkin kita selama ini begitu lama mendiamkannya”. Sebaliknya, kekuatan-kekuatan yang berkepentingan tentu tak tinggal diam. Mereka akan, dan telah, mengancam dengan mengajukan pertanyaan-pertanyaan “mengapa harus minta maaf kepada musuh?” ketika pokok masalah sebenarnya adalah azas keadilan dan reparasi bagi korban.[10] Atau menyerukan stereotip “kalau mereka menang, kami-lah yang akan dibunuh” – persis senada seruan tokoh Nazi Himmler tentang nasib bangsa Jerman yang bakal terpuruk jika kaum korbannya – Yahudi – berkuasa. Di situ sejarah cuma diandaikan belaka, tapi toh ‘if history’ itu menjadi mitos sekaligus perisai yang ampuh. Semua itu seperti mengatakan bahwa alasan-alasan politik layak menjadi dalih untuk menghabisi nyawa manusia, yang juga sesama warga bangsa, dan sekaligus untuk mengingkari hak-hak sosial-politik mereka yang tertuduh maupun organisasi-organisasi tertuduh yang – padahal – berstatus legal pada saat menjadi korban pembantaian itu. Dengan begitu, sebuah diskursus yang ditanamkan dengan kuat oleh Orde Baru sejak Oktober 1965, telah beralih menjadi pelindung kepentingan mapan. Mereka menjadi kekuatan-kekuatan yang merintangi upaya keadilan sekaligus tampil melindungi para pelaku yang resah akan kemungkinan terancam sanksi-sanksi politik dan hukum. Dan akan selalu menjauhkan kebenaran sejarah dari kesadaran khalayak luas. Atau, seperti sebagian kalangan di Jerman pasca-PD-II, akan terus menyangkal: “Wir haben es nicht gewusst” (Kami tidak tahu apa-apa). ●

Catatan :

1] Di awal 1970an soal pembantaian 1965 mulai hangat dibicarakan di kalangan cendekia di Leiden. Disini Jusfiq Hadjar yang sering mengangkat isu tersebut dalam perdebatan di KITLV dengan Onghokham, Lance Castle, Peter Carey, dll.

[2] Aboeprijadi Santoso, Indonesia’s 1965 Holocaust

remembered, http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2005/11/14/indonesia039s-1965-holocaust-remembered.html

[3] Geoffrey Robinson di: Aboeprijadi Santoso, What of truth commission for East Timor? http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2005/01/10/what-truth-commission-east-timor.html

[4] Aboeprijadi Santoso, Of Pain and Humiliation: The Velvet Protests in Aceh, The Jakarta Post 13 Dec. 1999, http://www.library.ohiou.edu/indopubs/1999/12/18/0007.html

[5] Pipit Rochijat, Am I PKI or Non-PKI?, Indonesia, Vol. 40, Okt. 1985, hal. 37-56.

[6] Aboeprijadi Santoso, The 1965 controversy and

need for people’s tribunal, http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2015/04/16/the-1965-controversy-and-need-people-s-tribunal.html

[7] John Roosa, Pretext for Mass Murder, The September 30th Movement and Suharto’s Coup d’État in Indonesia, 2006.

[8] Aboeprijadi Santoso, A Spanish lesson for Indonesia’s 1965, http://asiapacific.anu.edu.au/newmandala/2014/12/08/a-spanish-lesson-for-indonesias-1965/

[9] Aboeprijadi Santoso, The ‘1965’ killers – What’s    gone ‘wrong’ with Indonesia, https://www.academia.edu/3262094/The_1965_killers_What_s_gone_wrong_with_Indonesia_2013_

[10] Sri Lestari Wahyuningrum,‘Apology for PKI’: Sorry is not the point, http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2015/08/28/apology-pki-sorry-not-point.html

Ulah Migran di Negeri Voltaire Aboeprijadi Santoso  ;   Wartawan di Amsterdam

KORAN SINDO, 23 Januari 2015

                                                                                                                                     

Penjaga pompa bensin asal Aljazair di Desa Dumartin, dekat Bandara Charles de Gaulle, itu ogah diwawancarai koran Le Parisien. "Aku tak peduli ulah mereka," ujarnya tentang tiga teroris yang membantai sepuluh redaktur dan dua agen polisi pada mingguan satire Charlie Hebdo. Lalu, dengan nada keras, dia mengumpat: "Dua belas mati?! Anda tahu berapa ribu orang mati setiap hari di Libya, berapa ratus ribu di Suriah, dan entah berapa lagi di tempat lain." Ungkapan itu bak sepotong cermin dari sebuah gambar besar. Paris juga ibu kota dari sebuah imperium dengan tangan-tangan kuasa yang ikut bermain di berbagai pergolakan di Timur Tengah dan Afrika Utara. Nasib Palestina dan Gaza, aniaya ala Abu Ghraib, dan-yang terbaru-lautan pengungsi Suriah dan Libya menjadi simbol-simbol tragedi kekinian yang berkontras tajam dengan kejayaan peradaban masa silam. Kontras-kontras yang dihayati seperti itulah yang, menurut sejarawan Karen Armstrong, mengendap dalam sanubari dan melatarbelakangi ulah kekerasan kelompok-kelompok muslim radikal-seperti juga di kalangan migran di Eropa. Di atas semua itu, Aljazair merupakan pengalaman pasca-kolonial tersendiri. Di Prancis mereka merupakan warisan dari perang pembebasan pada 1950-an dan kemelut politik pasca-kolonial yang traumatik. Bukan kebetulan, empat dari lima pelaku teror di Paris itu, termasuk seorang perempuan yang lolos, adalah asal Aljazair. Kaum Aljir-Prancis inilah bagian terbesar (5 juta) dari migran muslim terbesar (6 juta dari 60 juta penduduk Prancis) di Eropa. Tujuh tahun silam, sosiolog Prancis, Olliver Roy-yang saya tulis di kolom ini (Tempo, 7 April 2008)-mencari latar belakang rangkaian teror di Eropa pada proses akulturasi migran yang gagal. Kini, krisis Suriah dan Irak menjadi pukulan balik, memusnahkan harapan yang tersisa pada "Musim Semi Arab", menyulut api baru di Afrika Utara dan Tengah, serta mengakibatkan dua juta pengungsi tumpah-ruah di seluruh kawasan. Dalam kurun hanya dua tahun, semua itu memperkenalkan sebuah fenomena baru: Eropa yang "merapat" ke kancah pergolakan membuat penguasa Eropa pusing dan masalah integrasi migran jadi kedaluwarsa. Ratusan dari mereka memilih menjadi mujahidin-dalam istilah Barat: jihadist, yang hilir-mudik dari Eropa lewat Turki menuju ajang perang di Alepo, Suriah Utara, serta ladang minyak Kurdi dan Irak. Eropa dengan demikian menyediakan sumber daya baru yang menciptakan kekuatan politik sejak para migran muslim radikal menukar kegalauan mereka selaku minoritas dalam penghidupan yang marginal di Eropa, dengan komitmen juang dan aksi untuk kelompok-kelompok Al-Qaidah, Al-Nusra atau demi cita-cita dari suatu konglomerat politik yang mereka namakan "Khilafah ISIS" (Negara Islam Suriah dan Levant). Paling sedikit 900-an sukarelawan-cum-mujahidin dari Jerman, Belanda, Belgia, Inggris, dan Prancis telah terjun ke medan perang. Sebagian kembali, sebagian tewas di sana. Keempat pelaku teror di Paris itu pun semuanya terlibat persiapan dan infrastruktur "misi" tersebut. Walhasil, kelompok migran itu tak lagi terbenam dan terhina di satu dunia, melainkan bangkit serentak di dua dunia. Apa boleh buat, selaku minoritas besar, mereka tak terwakili di parpol, di parlemen, maupun melalui media massa Prancis. Tapi mereka menyimpan kepedulian di kedua dunia mereka. Mirip kakak-adik Tsarnaev yang mencium sikon Chechnia dan Dagestan sebelum mengguncang maraton di Boston, Amerika Serikat, dua tahun silam, Kouachi bersaudara di Paris itu pun bukan serigala-serigala liar yang bergerak sorangan (lone wolves), melainkan bagian dari suatu keterlibatan berjarak-jauh (long-distance engagement) yang intens. Boleh jadi, mereka bukan bagian dari gerakan sektarian dan ekstremis yang sama. Namun, meski dibesarkan di Eropa, keterlibatan berjarak itu "membebaskan" mereka dari kemarginalan di bawah ketiak Republik Prancis. Mingguan Charlie Hebdo, yang hidup dengan satire, mengolok-olok penguasa, politikus, dan setiap figur otoritas, termasuk paus, nabi, dan siapa pun yang diperlakukan "sakral" berkat otoritasnya, menjadi sasaran. Bagi anak-cucu Voltaire dan Emile Zola, kemerdekaan itu tak bisa ditawar-tawar-sekalipun asas yang sakral bagi yang satu bisa melahirkan provokasi bagi yang lain, meski itu pun tak selalu (dan tak perlu) bermakna penghinaan. Tragisnya, benturan antara kartunis yang berdalih kebebasan berekspresi dan mereka yang membajak nama agama itu menjadi niscaya ketika kedua pihak berimajinasi tentang sebuah sosok simbolik yang sama, "Mahomet", yang sesungguhnya tak seorang pun tahu seperti apa wujud sebenarnya. Dengan kata lain, benturan itu tak perlu terjadi karena dia sebenarnya terjadi atas dasar ilusi belaka. Dunia tak serta-merta menyamakan ulah para teroris itu dengan "Islam" dan waspada bahwa parade "kebebasan berbicara" itu menyimpan banyak hipokrisi. Hipokrisi dari seruan "Je Suis Charlie" (Saya Charlie) di Paris, tapi membiarkan teror negara, menindas demokrasi dan kemerdekaan berbicara di negeri sendiri, hingga hipokrisi yang mengabaikan tangan-tangan mereka yang memainkan intervensi politik dan bisnis senjata di kawasan-kawasan Timur Tengah dan Afrika, yang pada gilirannya turut menyulut bara di Paris. ●

Aceh Didikte, Aceh Bangkit Aboeprijadi Santoso  ;   Wartawan

TEMPO.CO, 26 April 2014

                                                

                                                                                         

                                                             

Agustus 2008: Tgk Muhammad Usman Lampoh Awe (alm.), tokoh kepercayaan Hasan Tiro, menggambarkan Gerakan Aceh Merdeka (GAM) setelah Perdamaian Helsinki (2005) bagai "kapal oleng: ada ombak dari depan, ada angin dari samping, ada ribut di belakang. GAM seperti kapal yang harus tetap menuju tujuan ..."  Seputar pemilihan legislatif 2014, kiasan itu bak dejavu. Partai Aceh (PA), partai bekas GAM, merosot, tapi masih dominan. Golkar, Demokrat, NasDem menyusul dan parlok (parpol lokal) eks GAM yang bersitegang dengan PA, Partai Nasional Aceh (PNA), berada di peringkat rendah. Di basisnya, Pidie, Aceh Besar, dan Aceh Timur, PA kokoh, tapi PNA tidak. Hampir satu dasawarsa setelah perdamaian, kedua kubu eks-GAM bersaing untuk membangun Aceh. Gubernur Tgk Zaini Abdullah menunjuk tak kurang sembilan pasal Undang-Undang Pemerintah Aceh (UUPA) untuk melaksanakan MoU Helsinki yang lama dinanti, tapi tak dituntaskan pusat. Padahal ini seputar kewenangan dan sumber daya migas, antara lain soal batas laut 200 mil untuk eksplorasi minyak lepas pantai Simeuleu. Ada apa di balik kealotan Jakarta? Apa yang dirujuk sebagai kealotan dan kecurigaan itu kentara dalam keamanan. Setiap letupan kekerasan sejak 2009, tersangkanya boleh jadi pihak lokal, tapi orang mafhum: ada aparat "bermain". Itu sebabnya anggaran dan jumlah tentara serta polisi bertambah. Aceh menjadi "Serambi Kekerasan" yang tak pernah absen dalam daftar provinsi dengan perhatian khusus. Pada 2009 hingga Pilkada 2012, serangan organisasi tanpa bentuk (OTB) meningkat. "Operasi Soenarko" itu bersamaan dengan menajamnya perpecahan eks-GAM tadi. Pangdam asal Kopassus tersebut menjelang Pilkada 2012 membidani tampilnya Partai Gerindra di Aceh dan menggalang suara tambun bagi PA dari Aceh Tengah yang sarat milisi anti-GAM. Ini menjamin kemenangan besar PA menggusur Irwandi Yusuf dari kursi gubernur. Di lain pihak, perkongsian Gerindra-PA dinilai perlu karena melindungi PA dari kecurigaan terus-menerus dari Jakarta tentang "agenda kemerdekaan". Gerindra juga memasok dana miliaran rupiah. Pada gilirannya, perkongsian strategis itu menjamin suara Aceh bagi Prabowo Subianto dalam Pilpres 2014. Strange bedfellows mengingat cacat HAM pada Prabowo pada 1980-an. Bagi Aceh, perkongsian ini sama pentingnya dengan perkongsian PA dengan Partai Demokrat lima tahun sebelumnya yang menyumbang bagi kemenangan besar Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono pada Pilpres 2009. Pola aliansi ini menjamin stabilitas hubungan pusat dan Aceh. "Ombak dari depan, angin dari samping, ribut di belakang" terus mengguncang Aceh. "Ombak" datang dari Jakarta, "angin" dari persaingan lokal, tapi "ribut di belakang" itu berkisar mantan kombatan. "Janganlah melepas harimau liar," seorang aktivis menghardik Wiranto ketika jenderal ini mencabut DOM. Seusai perang, petani dan gerilyawan menjadi warga sipil, tapi itu memerlukan infrastruktur penghidupan. MoU Helsinki menyepakati perlengkapan hidup bagi 3.000 mantan kombatan, padahal jumlah mereka jauh lebih besar. Para peneliti menilai ada transisi "kombatan menjadi kontraktor", tapi ini hanya separuh kenyataan. Sejumlah eks panglima GAM pada masa Gubernur Irwandi menjadi kontraktor ketika BRR (Badan Rekonstruksi dan Rehabilitasi) menopang Aceh dengan proyek-proyek. Sebagian hidup dari fee, tapi ini tak menjangkau ribuan anak buah para panglima tersebut. Mereka menjadi reservoir bagi penguasa yang menguasai sumber daya. Walhasil, bila semula kontraktor menjamur, kini pada masa Gubernur Zaini, sejak para mantan panglima wilayah GAM "dipecat" dan anak buahnya "lepas" dari struktur, mereka menjadi potensi rawan.  Bila "ombak" Jakarta dan perkongsian tadi memenangkan PA dalam Pilkada 2012, pembubaran struktur kombatan bukan hanya mengguncang loyalitas, tapi juga mengalihkan relasi klientelisme ke penguasa baru: PA. Di bawah PA, Aceh disebut nyaris jadi one party-state. Seorang petinggi PA menuai onar ketika mengancam warga agar "keluar dari Aceh bila tak suka PA". Maka pemilihan legislatif 2014 dapat mengukur seberapa jauh suara elektorat menjadi pembelajaran ataukah hukuman atas tendensi otokratik. Layaknya demokrasi yang sehat, Aceh perlu oposisi yang mampu mengimbangi penguasa. Selama dua kubu eks GAM dalam imbangan yang timpang, ruang akan terpelihara bagi pihak ketiga untuk bermain: mendikte atau berkongsi. Aceh juga sebuah kisah kebangkitan. Di daerah dengan UMP tertinggi ini lapisan menengah bertumbuh-kembang. Ada mantan kombatan yang sukses berbisnis--semacam Tgku Jamaica dan Tgku Batee--dan bakal siap jadi politikus. Unsur-unsur civil society mengisi kader parpol. Walhasil, Aceh bukan cerita kegagalan. Momok Leviathan silih berganti sosok di Aceh: Hindia Belanda memeranginya, Sukarno memasukkan Aceh dalam provinsi Sumatera Utara, lalu Orde Baru beringas. Perdamaian Helsinki telah menjadi berkah milik rakyat Aceh. Mencurigai Aceh sama dengan memusuhi berkah tersebut. Yang perlu, saran Tgk Rafli, "mewakafkan keikhlasan" agar "Aceh dapat tampil dinamis dengan roh ke-Aceh-an dan roh peradaban". ●

Two different eras, two different populists Aboeprijadi Santoso  ;   A journalist living in the Netherlands

JAKARTA POST, 28 Maret 2014

                                      

                                                                                         

                                                             

With popular Jakarta Governor Joko “Jokowi” Widodo entering the country’s highest political contest, Indonesia has proceeded through a new era of populism amid the half-hearted transition from the New Order toward the consolidation of democracy. Since there has basically never been a genuine break in terms of ideology and political structure since the 1998 Reformasi (Reformation), not surprisingly, many patterns of political leadership and actions have been both retained and renewed, shaping a curious mixture of old and new characteristics. Nowhere has this been more obvious than with the contradiction between two populist leaders now competing to lead the nation: Jokowi and Prabowo Subianto. The 2014 elections — some of the biggest in the world, with 180 million eligible voters for some 20,000 regional and national representatives — could, for better or worse, be the promise of a break with the recent past. A promise — that could either be fulfilled or broken. The time has passed when those with celebrated roles during the independence struggle were destined to rule the state and guide the nation. With it, patterns of rule and leadership, with which the ruling elite kept their domination by dynamic interaction between state and political parties’ mass mobilization, have gone. The time has also passed for the system that replaced it, which came through mass violence, and went on with threats justified by ideological hegemony and was maintained by repressive stability and economic development. Today, a transition toward decentralization and growing markets in the regions have resulted in new patterns. Political leaders and legislators now depend on resources from political and business sectors, and hence they are no longer only controlled by party bosses.    The pendulum has thus swung to local and national groups of wealthy capitalists and oligarchs, the residue of generals from a foregone era, and ambitious nationalist and religion-based political leaders dominating the contest for the state and presidency. But they all built their resources during the decade of a president, the first in history, who acquired full, if formal, legitimacy for having been directly elected for two consecutive periods, yet has largely failed to use it to better the prospects of the nation.  True, there has been impressive economic growth and political stability. But the last decade also demonstrated an intensely felt time of crisis as a result of the ubiquitous corruption, rising sectarianism, indecisive leadership and apparent decline of national cohesiveness. Even democracy was blamed when things were running wild. All in all, it has resulted in what is increasingly seen — rightly or wrongly — as the need of strong state leadership, clean political leaders and a sort of national re-awakening. Both Jokowi and in particular Prabowo have made a lot out of this. Both — aged 52 and 62 respectively — grew up during the New Order era, but learned different lessons, and effectively took quite different fruit from it. The owner of a local furniture business, Jokowi entered bureaucracy as he was elected to lead a medium-sized city and became popular as he took his job seriously and succeeded in gaining public faith. As in Surakarta, in Jakarta he has come to be seen as “one of us” by men and women on the streets. Many may be skeptical of his capability to lead the nation since the urban problems he faced will not provide him with the best framework with which to lead the nation, but his supporters and others have welcomed this precisely as a great challenge for a new leader in new era. Jokowi comes from a simple family, not from a “who’s who” of public figures. Little, if any, public concern has been expressed about him simply because he is known as being clean of corruption. Above all, he is clean of human rights violations, of which the New Order has been most notorious. In almost all of these respects, Prabowo has been the exact opposite of Jokowi. A former military leader turned politician who was brought up abroad, versus a homegrown local merchant turned bureaucrat-cum-politician. Prabowo has never been active in public service other than the military, nor has he ever been elected to any political office. He comes from a well-known aristocratic family — the grandson of a hero and proud son of a renowned economist, once involved in a regional rebellion. A former general, the only general ever sacked by the corps in the nation’s history, and former son-in-law of the late president Soeharto, he has been politically raised from the very heart of the New Order. Thus, Prabowo could not have known what it’s like to live a simple life, build a career from the bottom up and be elected for public office — just as Jokowi could hardly imagine what it’s like to be a privileged son and a notorious general allegedly involved in war crimes in Aceh and East Timor. Jokowi is a native son loyal to his homeland in the way Prabowo never was, as the latter once sought a year-long refuge abroad in self-exile in Jordan. Jokowi played by the rules of the game, while Prabowo repeatedly and proudly expressed regret for not having attempted a coup d’état when Soeharto resigned. Witnesses, however, said he did attempt it, but failed.  Prabowo never indicated any interest in finding activists who went missing between 1997-1998, for which he was responsible, while Jokowi seems curious about the fate of the missing poet Wiji Thukul and his friends. If Jokowi has grown popular as a modest but successful bureaucrat, Prabowo has become a wealthy and successful patron of his political party. One grew from the bottom of society, the other from the very heart of state power. These differences are significant and have historical parallels. Like the first and fourth presidents, Sukarno and Abdurrahman Wahid, Jokowi is a product of the dynamic of his time and the grassroots community that he comes from. Prabowo, like Soeharto, almost exclusively spent his life and career within the military apparatus and derived his drive and spirit from it. Indeed his party captains have publicly expressed sympathy with Soeharto‘s rule. This is not just a matter of person and personality. It is Indonesia’s recent history that made them what they are. Moreover, the legacy of the New Order and President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s administration has shaped conditions in which Jokowi’s and Prabowo’s populist drive could grow. Jokowi’s background and journey may be a sign of a new era — just as Prabowo’s resemble a recent past. One may represent hope while the other represents fear, or a dubious mix of both. ●

Mandela, Indonesia and the liberation of Timor Leste

Mandela, Indonesia and the liberation of Timor Leste Aboeprijadi Santoso  ;  A Journalist

JAKARTA POST, 22 Juli 2013

  

At 95 years old, former South African president Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela may reflect on his struggle and his contribution with great satisfaction more than anyone else could. Popularly known as Madiba, he has become an icon of freedom, reconciliation and hope the world over. Much less known is his legacy to help liberate the people of Timor Leste.

In 1955 Mandela lauded the historic Asia-Africa Conference held in Bandung. Two leading members of the African National Congress (ANC) — including his close ally Walter Sisulu — were there to represent their country. Indonesia continued her support for the movement and provided the platform for the Asian struggle against apartheid, which Mandela respected.

Mandela, fond of batik shirts, loves Indonesia and visited four times: 1990, 1994, 1997 and 2002. The first time he came he visited the site of Bandung conference and said he was inspired by the Asia-Africa Conference and Sukarno’s role.

Unlike many, Mandela remains loyal to the principles of Bandung that included the right to self-determination. Indeed, contrary to leaders of Indonesia’s New Order, he threw his full weight behind the liberation of Timor Leste.

Back in November 1997, I was fortunate to have witnessed Mandela welcoming Soeharto on a sunny day at the Tuynhuys Palace in Pretoria. As he walked and showed him the beautiful palace garden, a number of children were waiting and sang Tweedly Dee, Tweedly Dee. Mandela joyfully joined them, not expecting his guest to sing along Soeharto, not knowing what to do, responded with a small smile.

For Mandela, that morning he was to have a tete-a-tete with Soeharto, in which he would persuade him to let then imprisoned Timorese leader Xanana Gusmao join the United Nations-sponsored negotiation on Timor Leste. Not only did Mandela have to respond to pressures from home and abroad but he himself could not suppress his concerns over Timor Leste. 

In the end, Mandela may have achieved little during the visit, but he had made abundantly clear to the world the need to pursue a peaceful way to resolve the issue.

Mandela, reflecting on South African transition, actually wanted a cease-fire period to continue negotiation, in which Xanana would directly participate, toward a peaceful resolution.

Only a few months earlier, in July 1997, it would have seemed possible for Mandela to push forward when he, acting as a Trojan horse, met with Soeharto during his visit to Indonesia. 

UN envoy Jamsheed Marker, in his East Timor: A Memoir of the Negotiations for Independence relates Mandela’s encounter with Soeharto:

“Mandela not only called for the release of Xanana Gusmao, but also insisted on meeting with the latter – and got his way […] Soeharto at first refused Mandela’s request to meet Xanana with the question ‘Why do you want to meet him? He is only a common criminal.’ When Mandela responded by saying ‘that is exactly what they said about for 25 years,’ Soeharto promptly and magnanimously responded by arranging for Xanana to be brought from prison to the State Guest House for an intimate dinner with Mandela. [T]his story, if true, has a legendary touch which says much for the caliber of both presidents.”

Xanana reportedly talked little when Mandela suggested that he should stop fighting to avoid greater suffering and persuaded him to participate at the negotiation.

Meanwhile, in Lisbon, the Timorese resistance representative Jose Ramos-Horta confirmed that Soeharto, when he met with Mandela, had indeed spoken of Xanana as “common criminal”.

Hence, while Mandela may have had “most useful discussion” with Xanana, whom he addressed as “comrade”, the hope he could be released and take part in the negotiation, or be brought to South Africa, was dashed as Soeharto remained unchanged. 

But Mandela was patient and in August 1997 he wrote a letter requesting Soeharto yet again to release Xanana but to no avail: The stubbornness of Soeharto being the biggest stumbling block toward a peaceful resolution of the issue.

It is significant; however, that Mandela and Xanana — both popular resistance leaders of oppressed nations who fought for decades and were put in jail for years — were increasingly seen as sharing a common bond when their paths crossed in unprecedented way in the most critical years of the 1990s.

The defining moments for Mandela and Xanana were at the expense, slowly but surely, of Soeharto.

After all, the issue of Timor Leste had in the wake of the St. Cruz 1991 killings seized the world’s attention, and Xanana Gusmao, in 1993, had just been incarcerated in Jakarta amid worldwide protests — just like Nelson Mandela, having been freed in 1990 after 27 years in jail (of which 18 years were at Robben Prison island), stepped onto the world stage as a leader with great stature, armed with moral authority.

Mandela’s intervention and encounter with Xanana became public relation’s greatest victory for the Timorese.

The 1997 momentum had, therefore contributed to the changing circumstances and awareness among both the Timorese resistance and in the international community. It took a financial crisis and President BJ Habibie’s courage to help swing the pendulum toward the liberation of Timor Leste two years later. 

In retrospect, then, it may be argued that Mandela, not in spite of, but precisely because of his predictable failure to persuade Soeharto, and surely because of his determination and tireless efforts toward a peaceful resolution, had greatly contributed to changing Zeitgeist that shaped the trajectories for both Mandela and Xanana and their respective countries.

Like Mandela — and thanks partly to him — Xanana became a big prize: in both cases, they were kept alive and well as the ruling powers needed them to guarantee a peaceful transition; the same goes, for that matter, for Sukarno and Hatta when they were incarcerated by the Dutch.

Happy birthday Nelson Mandela, a great freedom fighter, man of forgiving, not forgetting. ●